The Trouble with the Truth
by bluedawn01
Summary: The Doctor brings Reinette along for an adventure in the TARDIS, ignoring the ramifications it might have both personally and historically. As the TARDIS crew gets separated and caught up in a violent civil war, true natures come out, betrayals flare like super-novas and the truth gets somewhere lost along the way. Can Mickey and the Doctor save Rose before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**I know I am a horrible, terrible person for starting another story but I just recently rewatched GitF (I'm a masochist, apparently) and it made me so mad I just couldn't help myself. The plot bunnies would not let me go. Because I cannot reach into the internet and shake Ten for being such an absolute low-down prat in this episode, I shall instead inflict much angst upon him here. Let me know what you think. I'll finish this one as quick as possible. It is probably going to be darker than my other fics, as a warning.**

* * *

Rose stood silently in the doorway, watching him flit and flirt around the Console, animatedly explaining the intricacies of Time Travel to That Woman. That Woman who was currently sitting on the pilot's bench in her finery, looking so poised and regal and, god dammit, beautiful.

He hadn't even noticed her come to the doorway. He always noticed. He would look up from the monitor screen and flash his "I'm-so-glad-to-see-you-even-if-you've-only-been-gone-for-five-minutes" smile or scoot out from the under the grating when he heard her footsteps, bouncing up to share something with her. He would always acknowledge her seemingly welcome presence, even when he was all leather and anger, tamping down his swearing and grinning his mad, apologetic smile at her when something particularly vivid came out. He always knew she was there. She used to jokingly call it his Spidey-sense and he'd reached out and tweaked her nose and corrected her. His Rosey-sense, he'd answer and then frown, as though he couldn't believe he'd just said something that cheesy before lighting up again, spinning her off to the next adventure.

Or at least he used to.

But everything had recently gotten so complicated. So twisted. And now he was smiling iher/i smile at That Woman and That Woman had her delicate, white hand laid on his arm, laughing as if he was the most brilliant man in the universe.

Well, he probably was, but that was beside the point, right?

Still...it was temporary, right? One trip for the magnificent courtesan and then, whoosh. Everything back to normal.

Well, normal plus Mickey.

Mickey who had paced beside her for five and a half hours and frittered and worried and doubted the Doctor. But she hadn't. He would always come back for her. He had promised. She'd told Mickey that. Never mind that he didn't know precisely WHEN in the 51st century they were. Never mind that he didn't know the name or location of the spaceship. Never mind that they were locked out of the TARDIS because Rose had lent Mickey her key and he'd left it inside and there wasn't a soul alive on this ship, much less food or water...

He would come back. He had to come back.

And he had! Sprinted back into the TARDIS, bubbling with joviality and chattering about the brilliance of That Woman. And Rose had been so happy to see him, she'd covered up her slightly battered heart and rejoiced in having him back, in being Right. She knew him, she lo- nope. But He'd come back. He would always come back.

And then...suddenly they were going back for someone else. Madame Du Pompadour had breezed into the TARDIS with all the regality of her stature and suddenly Rose found herself standing in doorways unnoticed.

He'd just...replaced her. Found a smarter, prettier, more sophisticated model and...

Nope. She wasn't doing that. She wouldn't think that. It was temporary and even if he ran, it was always her he came back to. Maybe she couldn't be his everything but she could be his now. Her relationship with the Doctor had been changing so fast of late she felt she needed a safety belt. His regeneration and then Christmas...Queen Victoria and then Sarah Jane and Mickey. Banana daquaris and clockwork robots and now, That Woman.

Rose sighed heavily and turned back to her room, ghosting away from the door. A kip, perhaps and then she'd face That Woman's one adventure and then everything would go back to normal.

Whatever the hell normal was. Rose left the hall with a heavy heart, determined not to cry. A kip and a shower.

* * *

The air in the TARDIS console room took on a sudden uncomfortable chill and the Doctor shuddered. Curious. He'd have to examine the internal atmospheric systems...then suddenly the Doctor raised his head, his eyes darting toward the door. It felt as though he'd missed something important...ah, well.

Reinette had just asked him about the Time Rotor and he was only too happy explain to her how brilliant he was. This was simple. He didn't have to watch his words around Reinette and controls his body's reaction to her. He didn't have to wonder how she was feeling, what she wanted from him, if she was happy. He didn't have to consider what a hell his life would be like with her gone from it. Simple.

Right?

Right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yep, this is a 'Rose-with-a-past' story and also a Dark!Reinette. Sorry...I just really hate her. Mostly, what Ten did to Rose using her. WHICH I FIRMLY BELIEVE NINE NEVER WOULD HAVE DONE. But anyway, here's chapter 2.**

* * *

There was a brash knock at her door and Rose raised her head as the doorknob rattled. "Up and at 'em, Rose! Time for adventure!" came Mickey's excited voice from the other side of the doorway. "The Doctor's said we're going to land on a planet this time! A real 'nother planet, Rose! My first one! Bilanisky IV or something! Golden streets and fountains of chocolate. FOUNTAINS!" Mickey whooped from the hall, banging on her door again and Rose grinned. Oh, good old Micks. She wondered if she should tell Mickey that the likelihood of them being on the planet the Doctor said they were going to be on wasn't very high.

Nah, that'd just spoil the fun. Teasing the Doctor about their destination was the real fun. Just in front of discovering the place where they actually HAD landed, hand-in-hand with him.

Rose had shuffled her way to the shower before she remembered, with a start, that she might not be the one hand-in-hand with him on this trip. Well, she'd just buck up and make it through this one. She'd be fine.

After scrubbing her skin rather more vigorously than was probably needed, Rose stepped out of the shower to peruse her closet of clothing. As she stared at, and consequently rejected, pretty much every piece of clothing the TARDIS offered, she wondered what was wrong with her. Just pick some clothes and get out there, Tyler, she growled to herself. Not like you're ever going to compare to That Woman anyway, so why bother?

Oh. That thought hit her hard. So that was the problem, huh? She hadn't even realized it at first. Next to Reinette she felt...like nothing. It was so curious to feel that. Rose Tyler had never been one to let someone make her feel like nothing. Well, perhaps not NEVER but she'd put those days long behind her. Mickey and her mum had seen to that.

She'd known she was ordinary, known she was only passably good-looking, known she was just a shopgirl with no A-levels, but she'd worn the Powell Estate proudly and he'd always seemed delighted with her and so...

But, wow. Nothing. The TARDIS hummed at her worriedly and Rose absently brushed her hand against the warm, coral wall accepting the TARDIS' pulse of concern. Rose didn't want to feel like nothing today. She needed some armor to put on, for her skin and for her heart. She'd be polite to That Woman, give Mickey a proper adventure and, well, she'd sort the Doctor out later.

A new outfit appeared at the front of the wardrobe and Rose nodded in agreement, sending her thanks to the TARDIS once again. Maybe she was feeling like nothing today but nothing wrapped in THAT would certainly feel better. It was appropriate.

The TARDIS, for her part, hummed worriedly again and sent a wave of chastisement toward her pilot, which went ignored.

-

The Doctor was dancing around the kitchen, passing out French Toast to an amused Reinette. Ha! Imagine that. Serving French Toast to the Uncrowned Queen of France. Reinette kept touching his arm and his shoulder and throwing her head back to laugh at his jokes and Mickey kept glowering at him in between bites of French Toast.

He made, what he thought, was a particularly clever joke about their choice of breakfast foods and suddenly the TARDIS sent him a tidal wave of red anger that almost made him reel. Blimey! Had his joke really been that bad?

He was just about to question her about it when his, adorably named, 'Rosey-sense' went off. He'd been trying to block his mental awareness of her lately, trying to ease himself away from her comforting golden presence now before it was too late but it sometimes caught him by surprise. He turned a brilliant smile to face his little pink-and-yellow-human who had just entered the room.

Not in her typical clothes.

Guh. Surprise, indeed.

Rose was wearing tight, dark black jeans tucked into calf-high heavy boots with a buckle slung low across them and what appeared to be the tight, female version of his last regeneration's beloved leather armor all zipped up. Her hair was french-braided back from her face and she had barely applied any make-up. If he'd had a brain cell to spare that wasn't thinking about how unbelievably hot she looked, he might have noticed the tight set of her jaw.

Or he might have noticed the predatory snarl that momentarily took over Reinette's features as she watched the two of them.

Rose looked up from picking distastefully at her plate of French Toast to catch him still staring at her and he blushed and blustered and started prattling on about how Reinette had explained to him last night the absolutely fascinating (well - perhaps not but it was something to babble about), intricate web of aristocratic politics in the French monarchy.

"Oh yes, we were simply up ALL night," Reinette said, leaning on the word and watching Rose carefully. She was very well-trained in her art and her art was people. Men, in particular. She'd spent her whole life pursuing (and winning) men and, more than often, winning meant taking out the competition. And, apparently, this low-class chav was the competition. Hah.

She turned back from her study of Rose to the Doctor. "And you were SUCH a dear helping me button up this dress this morning. There are just so many buttons and those are very clever fingers you've got," she murmured, running one of her sharply nailed fingers over the soft skin of the underside of his wrist. She saw him startle slightly and Rose flinch. Oh, this was really too easy.

The Doctor, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable, although who with he wasn't quite sure, stood up quickly. "Right. Off to the console room! Got to get our destination perfect! Rose, would you clear up? Thanks!" he said, darting off.

Reinette stood up, too, leaving her plate which Mickey, looking rather disgusted, picked up and deposited in the sink with his. Apparently the chav was also the housekeeper and the colored boy was something of a servant, too. Time for a bit more groundwork, then. "He really is quite...enthusiastic, isn't he?" she purred, sounding for all the world like a woman who was simply sharing details with her best friends. "Once you get him going, mmm...those hands never stop. And that mouth of his. After he asked me to come with him to see the stars he came to my chamber and...that tongue. And then he asked me to...oh, the things I didn't even know existed. And I thought I'd been thoroughly trained!" She sighed heavily, dreamily, and then left the room, smirking at the tightened shoulders she saw. Again. Too easy.

"Rose," Mickey started, putting his plate in the sink along with the Doctor's, which Rose's slightly shaking hands had just delivered there.

"Don't," Rose snapped. "She's lying," she said.

"Oh yeah? And how can you be so sure about that?" Mickey answered. He wouldn't put her through this again. Sod the Doctor, sod Time and Space, sod the TARDIS, he wouldn't put her through this again.

"I know him," she answered, vehemently.

"Do you?" Mickey asked. "He left us, Rose. Left us and swanned after that tart bit of skirt. Who knows how long he was gone? He didn't say. And you didn't ask. That's not like you, Rose. You're Rose Tyler. You push and push and push. Believe me. I know. He left you. For her."

"He came back," Rose said firmly and, if he were anyone else, if he were any other bloke, if he were the fucking Doctor, probably, he wouldn't have noticed the slightest quiver in her voice. But he wasn't. He was Mickey Smith, the faithful Tin Dog and he knew her better than anyone. "He came back."

"Rose, listen to yourself. Don't do this. I tried to tell you -"

"Shut up, Mickey," Rose snapped and then stormed out the door to the Console Room.


	3. Chapter 3

**The plot thickens. All mistakes are my own and I wrote this fairly quickly. Hopefully it's not terrible. **

* * *

In the Console Room, the Doctor was having an epic battle with the TARDIS. He'd begged, he'd pleaded, he'd cajoled and she was absolutely refusing to put them on Bilanisky IV. He was trying to impress the Uncrowned Queen of France. Golden streets! Very impressive. And safe. Very safe. Bilanisky was safe as houses. And he definitely needed safe, because, as his Time Sense and his TARDIS kept screaming at him, of all the stupid, idiotic, spotty-faced youthful mistakes to have made...He'd just removed a very important historical human from her Timeline.

And all because he couldn't handle the one in his TARDIS.

The one who was currently standing over to the side of the room with her arms crossed against her chest in a manner that again eerily reminded him of his past self, looking stony. Choosing to ignore the fact that he knew in his hearts why she was looking like that, he breezed past it. The truth was an awfully complicated little bugger and it was much easier to ignore it.

So...Rose looked stony. Which, of course, had nothing to do with him. And whenever Rose looked stony, chocolate was in order.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?" Reinette asked in a honeyed tone from her position on the pilot's bench, Rose's normal position, something traitorous in his brain noted.

"The TARDIS and I are just having a little misunderstanding at the moment. She doesn't seem to want to go where I want to go," he huffed.

"Maybe we should listen to her -" Rose began. She could feel the apprehension in the TARDIS about this place.

"Don't be stupid, Rose. She's just being stubborn," the Doctor snapped at her without thinking, more forcefully than he intended. Why was the TARDIS being so damn difficult?

Rose flinched and turned away. Stupid. As in stupid ape. As in stupid, low-class, chav of a...She settled down further into her leather jacket.

Reinette sniffed. "It is just a machine, Doctor. Surely a brilliant man like you can make a simple machine do whatever he likes," she said, sidling up close to him and leaning into his arm, placing one hand over his on the console.

Furious at her dismissal of the TARDIS, Rose bristled and turned back, not sure how much of her anger was really hers and how much was coming from the TARDIS herself. In the days since the Bad Wolf it was often difficult to tell.

She opened her mouth to retort, expecting to be in chorus with an indignant Doctor, who instead said, "Quite right, too!" shocking both Rose and the TARDIS and whacking the console with his mallet and literally forcing the ship to into a landing sequence. Bilanisky was the safest place he could think of and, despite his anger at Reinette's words to the TARDIS, he wasn't going to let the ship's anger at him for bringing her along keep him from going where he wanted to go.

The ship howled in anger and fury and three of the four occupants of the room were thrown violently to the ground. The Doctor shot to his feet to help Reinette up and called "All right there, Mr. Mickey?" to the disgruntled, tangled limbed Mickey who had just entered the room. His head whipped around to check on Rose who was, very surprisingly, still on her feet, although hanging onto one of the coral struts as though it were a lifeline. She was looking pale and slightly shell-shocked, caressing the coral and, for moment, he thought he heard her thoughts reaching out to the TARDIS, soothing the ship. Before he could think too long on that, the TARDIS hit his with barrage after barrage of scathing thoughts. She was very, very angry with him right now.

"Rose?" he called, tentatively. Her head shot up and for a moment, he swore her eyes blazed golden fury at him before settling into a cool, neutral hazel. The expression was disconcerting and he shook his head, turning from her.

"Well then! Here we are! Streets of gold, fountains of chocolate!" he said, clapping his hands and striding over to the doors. As soon as his hand reached the handle, a sharp shock went through it into his fingers.

He swore colorfully in Gallifreyan and Reinette rushed over to take his burnt hand into hers. Rose, he noticed, did not rush over nor look particularly concerned for him. "Oh! Are you all right?" Reinette cooed, flipping his hand over to examine it.

"I'm always all right!" he said with a dazzling grin. He pulled open the doors, striding out quickly followed by the three humans, Reinette stepping up to lock her arm through his, Mickey trailing behind her, eagerly swinging his head around searching for chocolate and gold and Rose with one last pat to the TARDIS before carefully shutting the door.

The TARDIS sent one last beg, one last plea to her not to go out, not to leave but Rose shook her head. She'd do this for Mickey. For the Doctor. She'd play the gracious host, she'd keep an eye on the courtesan.

"Doesn't look very golden to me," Mickey said, peering around him, looking disappointed. So far the Doctor was 0 for 2 in his book and was hurting Rose to boot.

"Well, of course not, Rickey," the Doctor responded, tersely. "We're inside a house," he snapped. Something was wrong. Something felt wrong. "Outside we go," he said, itching to move, to run, to do something.

They stepped out of the house...

And into a warzone.

-

Explosion after explosion rocked the deserted and desecrated golden streets around them. Rose, Mickey, the Doctor and Reinette ducked into an alley across the street from the home they'd just left, attempting to take cover.

"We've got to get back in there! We've got to get back into the TARDIS!" the Doctor shouted over the explosions, shielding Reinette with his body. Oh, Rassilon. What had he done? He'd put them all in danger. And if something happened to Reinette, human history - the history of the universe itself - was going to start unravelling.

Rose started to dart out into the street to cross over to the TARDIS when another massive explosion rocked the neighborhood. The Doctor cried out for her, attempting to disentangle himself from the fearful Frenchwoman to get to her in the confusion. In that moment, he forgot about Timelines, forgot about history forgot about pushing her away and saw only Rose and Death. He had to get to her! But he had to protect Reinette. When the dust had settled, he saw Mickey lying on top of Rose, with rubble surrounding them. The strangled cry from his lungs went unheard in the mass of confusion but he saw Mickey stand and help Rose stagger to her feet and he thought maybe he would pass out from relief.

Until he looked across the street. The house where the TARDIS had been resting was now a massive crater. Leaving Reinette in a puddle of taffetta on the street, he sprinted over to the hole in the ground and thought, perhaps, he could see a flash of blue at the bottom, buried under hundreds of pounds of rock and debris.

He fell to his knees beside the hole. He could feel her down there, buried and in pain, alive but trapped. She'd known. Of course she'd known, his brave, beautiful ship and he'd forced them here anyway. As the Doctor watched, a large rock teetered on the edge of the crater and then fell the full distance down to land heavily on the spot where the TARDIS was and he felt her flinch and whimper in his mind.

Hold on. That whimper hadn't come from the TARDIS. He turned slowly around to see Rose on her knees in Mickey's arms, holding her head and whimpering. She raised it momentarily to say something incomprehensible to Mickey and the Doctor felt a powerful wave of jealousy wash over him. It should be his arms Rose was in, not Rickey's. It should be him she was whispering to, it should be him who had saved her, it should be him wiping the blood from her cheek.

What?

He sprung into action once more, roughly pushing past an indignant Mickey to cup Rose's face in his palm. "Rose -"

" 'm fine," she managed, reaching a hand out to Mickey, who pulled her to her feet and out of the Doctor's grasp.

"You're bleeding," he began.

"Oh, Doctor!" Reinette cried in a frenzy, flinging herself on him, sobbing. "What is going on? Where are we? Whatever will we do?" She was frightened, sure, but not nearly this much. She could keep her head cool if needed, although this situation was certainly far out of her training. But she certainly wasn't going to let a golden opportunity to play the distressed maiden to the charming hero go to the scrawny blonde with a little cut on her cheek.

"We've got to get out of the street," the Doctor said, pulling her with him and casting another concerned gaze over at Mickey and Rose. He was going to get the Frenchwoman off him and he was going to look at Rose's cheek whether she liked it or not. "I'm not sure what's going on...there shouldn't be any wars of any sort on this planet. Period."

The explosions seemed to have levelled off for the moment at least and an eerie calm had settled over the desolate landscape in their wake. There seemed to be no people around at all, not that he could blame them.

Once inside another hollowed out husk of a home, Reinette settled disdainfully onto the remains of a dining chair, Mickey paced and Rose slid to the floor with her back to the wall. The Doctor walked over and crouched in front of her. "Rose, let me see your cheek," he said, quietly.

"It's fine," she mumbled into her hands. The sharp sting of the cut there was nothing compared to the throbbing pain in her head. The TARDIS' pain.

"It's not fine," he said, vehemently. "You're hurt and that's never fine." He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up, removing the hands covering it immediately. "Just a surface scratch," he said, examining it with tender fingers. The sonic came out and, with a slight adjustment, the scratch was repaired. "Better?" he asked, softly.

"Yeah," Rose replied, both a truth and a lie. The cut, yes. Her head, no. The way he was looking at her, lips just millimeters away, radiating concern and affection...the jury was still out. Mickey cleared his throat and the Doctor sprang away, the expression closing up instantly.

No, apparently.

Mickey saw the way Rose's face crumpled as the Doctor strode away, over to check the tart. She'd forgiven the sorry git already. Well, he hadn't. And, scary alien bloke or not, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt his Rose.

"What now, Doc?" Mickey asked.

"I don't know what's going on here," the Doctor muttered, more to himself than to Mickey. "This isn't right. Bilanisky is safe. Supposed to be safe. Gold and chocolate, noble royal family, height of music and fashion..." he continued to mutter. "Castle," he finally said, out loud. "We've got to get to the castle. Whatever's happening here is probably centered there."

The sooner this got sorted out, the sooner he could get the TARDIS unearthed and the sooner he could get Reinette back to her Timeline and everything could get back to normal.

Whatever the hell normal was.


	4. Chapter 4

Ok, Rose thought. So, here she was, in the halls of a dangerous megalomaniac and his entire army of mindless slave people searching for information. Typical Tuesday, then, she grinned to herself.

Except she wasn't with the Doctor.

Or alone.

Rose chanced a glance over at Reinette, who seemed very interested in her nails at the moment. She took a deep breath and thought back through the Doctor's instructions.

- _ Earlier that day_ -

They arrived at the castle in short order and it was much easier to sneak in than she thought it would be. Maybe whoever was in charge he (or she) just assumed complete control and therefore didn't have to worry about things like security. Well, they hadn't counted on the Doctor and Rose Tyler, she thought, grinning and almost unconsciously squeezed the hand attached to hers.

The squeeze that came back was a bit odd and, jolted, she looked down to see that it was the wrong hand. It was Mickey's hand. The Doctor was standing over by a pillar across the hall with That Woman attached to him. She frowned and dropped Mickey's hand and then the two of them snuck over to join the Doctor.

"Something's wrong here," he muttered, using his screwdriver to scan the perimeter. "There's an odd telepathic field being generated all around but I can't find its source or its purpose." As he babbled, Rose observed the people milling around the castle. Something was decidedly off about them. And it wasn't just that they were all tall, blonde and very good looking.

"Doctor," Rose started, trying to interrupt his babbling.

"An inversion and amplification field of some sort...some sort of Modulator perhaps..."

"Doctor," Rose tried again, stepping a little closer to him. Before she could reach out and touch his shoulder to get his attention, Reinette's hand came up and stroked his face. The Doctor stopped mid-word and gaped at her.

"I believe the girl has something to say," Reinette told him a sweet voice, stroking a finger along his sideburn.

"Girl?" he asked in a dazed voice. Why was Reinette touching him? No one touched him. Well, that's not true. Rose touched him. Rose touched him all the time. But she hadn't been lately. In fact, he didn't think she'd held his hand at all today.

Rose cleared her throat and the Doctor snapped his head over to look at her. She was scowling for some reason. "Something's weird with the staff," she said. "S'like...they get along too well. No one's talking or gossiping or wandering...they all just do their jobs and that's it."

"Perhaps its just a well-managed castle," Reinette said, airily. "Some people know how to keep their subordinates in check," she said, sniffing toward the Doctor's household staff. Or at least the two she was pretending were the Doctor's household staff. Not that he seemed to notice.

Or mind.

If he minded her calling them that, he certainly wasn't showing it now. But Rose and Mickey were, if the scowls they were sending her way meant anything.

They didn't. To her, anyway.

The Doctor looked absently up from his scanning. "Could be," he said, smiling over at Reinette and Rose felt her heart drop a bit. "Buuut, Rose tends to be right about these sorts of things," he finished, smiling briefly at Rose, too. Rose smiled back at his compliment. It would be ok.

She kept telling herself that.

The next hour had passed in a flash as they snuck through hallways and easdropped on conversations. The Doctor had determined that, yes, the locals seemed to be under some sort of mind-control. Every single member of the castle walked around like mindless automatons. And they were all oddly blue-eyed, Rose noticed. She'd been about to point this out to the Doctor when they heard a group of military officers walking by discussing an upcoming very violent sounding raid on some rebel forces just outside the borders of the city.

The Doctor paled at that. So there were some Bilaniskis still out there fighting this, whatever it was, and they were about to get crushed without a chance. They were a peaceful, loving people and didn't deserve any of this hardship. He needed to fix this. Rose watched his face carefully, as he was caught between wanting to warn their unknown allies and staying in the castle to find the source of the mind-control.

"Why don't we just split up?" Mickey said, watching the scene carefully as well. "Me an' Rose can check out the castle and you can go warn the rebels.

The Doctor bristled. Why would he let Rose go with Rickey? He started to open his mouth to argue but Reinette spoke first. "And what shall I do?" she asked Mickey with a saccharine sweetness that made his teeth stand on edge.

Mickey bit back the highly offensive answer on the tip of his tongue and gave her a tight smile instead. "Why just stand around and look pretty," he answered mockingly, batting his eyelashes at her.

The Doctor momentarily forgot his anger at Mickey's splitting up plan to stare at the boy. Had Mickey accidentally ingested something strange? He was fairly certain the boy had never batted his eyes at anything before. And he was being very rude to Reinette.

Rose stepped in before the Doctor could yell at Mickey, which she could see coming. "That'll never work," she said, calmly. "Doctor, you and Mickey will stick out like sore thumbs here. Reinette and I will be blend in much better. We can do a little spy-work and you and Micks can go warn the rebels. You said it yourself, earlier. If anyone's going to be able to fill you in on the situation, it'll be the ones still fighting."

The Doctor had to admit that Rose had a point there. His tall, lanky brown-haired, brown-eyed form would stick out not to mention Mickey's dark-skinned complexion. Rose and Reinette, blonde and beautiful would have a much easier job blending into the staff if they should get caught out in the open. The women of the castle all seemed to be dressed in fine clothing. "I don't like you wandering around this castle by yourself, Rose," he said. "We don't know what that machine is capable of, where it is or who's running the show here. The Bilanskis maybe be a peaceful people, but they're powerful. Whoever has taken over here is probably very dangerous."

"All the more reason for us to get rid of him quick," Rose said, looking him in the eye. "We'll snoop around here and meet you at the edge of the city over near the TARDIS at sundown."

The Doctor still looked unconvinced. He opened his mouth to argue with Rose again when suddenly an entire army regiment of the oddly severe looking blonde humanoids came marching by carrying some very disturbing looking weapons. His jaw tightened. "Ok," he said, reluctantly. "Division of labor. But sundown, Rose. No later."

"You've got it," Rose said, grinning at him. This felt good. This felt precariously close to "normal".

Reinette watched as the Doctor spoke with Rose, apparently briefing her on whatever it was, exactly, they were supposed to be looking for in this awful place. She watched as Rose's eyes lit up as they discussed what needed to be done, as they both seemed completely at ease discussing these strange, unlawful and undoubtbly dangerous activities. They were growing closer by the second, undoing Reinette's hard work on that horrible ship of his and that would never do.

Rose was suddenly jostled to the side as Reinette moved in front of her to lay her hands on either side of the Doctor's face. "You will be careful, won't you, my dear Angel?" she said, her face just inches from his. Her fingers grazed his temples and he was suddenly back in that room where she had unexpectedly caressed his mind.

"I, umm, yes, of...of course," he said, looking a bit dazed. Rose looked away and Mickey looked at Rose.

The Doctor shook himself, walking away from a smirking Reinette and then pulled Rose off to the side. Rose smiled to herself. Finally some normalcy in this crazy adventure. T

"Rose..." the Doctor said, his eyes darting over to where Reinette and Mickey appeared to be sizing each other up. "I don't like this. But you've got to promise me something. And this is probably the most important promise-y promise you've ever made me. Not a pinky swear type promise. Not even a cross my hearts and hope – yes, um. Not even going to say that. But you get my picture. It's a great big ball of assurance and declaration and -"

"Ok, ok, I get it, Doctor. Big promise," Rose said.

"Yes," he answered and looked her deep in the eyes. Rose had fight back her urge to shiver at his avid attention. She held her breath and waited...waited for his 'don't wander off, take care of yourself' speech. It was not an 'I love you' but it was as close as he could come, she thought. He would tell her to be careful, kiss her on the forehead and she would know he'd always come back for her.

He took a deep breath. "Take care of Reinette," he said, emphatically.

"What?" Rose managed to squeak out. That wasn't what he was supposed to say, what he always said.

"She's the most important woman in all of time and space at the moment, especially to me," he said, sincerely. To him because he was a big stupid, idiot of a Time Lord who could quite easily bring human history crashing down around them because he'd removed a fixed point from her Timeline. Rose had to understand that Reinette needed to be kept safe, kept unharmed so he could take her back where she belonged and they wouldn't have to deal with a multitude of Doctor-mistake Reapers trying to cleanse the Earth.

"Right," Rose said and he frowned as something, some light he didn't understand shut off in her eyes. "Take care of Reinette, got it," she mumbled, turning abruptly from him and walking over to Mickey. He watched after her in dismay. Rose usually kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful, usually with a little tongue-touched smile and some quip about whatever adventure they found themselves in. Instead, she hugged Mickey and didn't look back at him.

"All right then, Mickety-Mick. Off we go!" the Doctor bustled over (as much as one could bustle while currently in hiding). "Remember what I said, Rose," he repeated. Rose simply nodded and looked away, crossing her arms across her chest again reminding him of a certain leather-coated warrior who had once used that action to protect himself from the world at large. He frowned. Something was going on with Rose and he didn't know what it was.

Well, he could sort it out later. Right now he had a rebel force to find.

* * *

_Back to the present_

"Ok. I think the best strategy here is to stick to the shadows and get as close to the main chamber room as possible. The Doctor said that's probably where the mind control thingy is located, so we want to get there as quickly as possible. The sooner we get visual on what this thing is, the sooner we can meet up with them at the rendezvous place and get the hell out of here," Rose finished.

"Fine, then," That Woman replied with a heavy sigh, as though she were doing Rose an immense favor by simply listening to her. Well, Rose wasn't all that keen to be here with her either, so she could deal.

Rose snuck forward in the shadow of a large pillar and then motioned Reinette to do the same. While the Frenchwoman did move gracefully, it was without the practiced art of sneaking Rose had managed to perfect over her past few years with the Doctor. Daily doses of sneaking through halls of evil kings, sneaking out of filthy jails and sneaking biscuits past the Doctor made one pretty good at sneaking.

They continued in this fashion for several corridors quite successfully when suddenly they found themselves at a dead end. A dead end with a locked door, no escape and a battalion of guards coming straight for them.

Rose cursed under her breath. What now? Maybe if they waited here in the shadows long enough, the troop would pass by into the locked room and not see them. It was a slim chance, but it was still a chance. They would pass by the Frenchwoman first and Rose couldn't risk her being captured. She'd promised the Doctor, after all.

Taking a deep breath, Rose darted across the hall to Reinette's pillar. "Don't make a sound. We'll just wait for them to pass by and hopefully not get thrown into jail," Rose whispered to her, settling into an uneasy crouch in the shadows. Busy thinking about how to get them out of this hall without being seen, Rose was not watching the calculating gaze that Reinette swept over the situation as well.

She'd heard the discussions of Rathbourne's many female suitors in the hall while the other three had been discussing the silly rebel forces. She'd noticed the way they were all dressed in fancy dresses very similar to the one she happened to be wearing. She'd also contemplated how very uncomfortable a jail cell might be. And so, she formed her own plan.

When the guards were passing by their pillar, she let out her loudest, most terrified damsel-in-distress scream. Rose looked up at her in horror, just in time to see the evil smirk that passed over her face as she stepped out into the middle of the hall and pretended to swoon.

One of the guards caught her before she hit the ground. "What is it, my lady?" he asked in the strange monotone of the controlled workers here.

"A rebel!" she said, crocodile tears welling in her eyes as she pointed a (falsely) trembling hand toward Rose's dumbstruck figure, which was promptly set upon by two guards and drug, struggling, into the light. "It came at me from the shadows and tried to k-k-kill me!" she sobbed into the red fabric of the man's jacket. "Help me! Please!" she said dramatically.

The last thing Rose saw before something very hard and very painful connected with the side of her head was Reinette's smiling face.

This, she thought grimly, was not going to end well.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose came to slowly with a groan, trying to figure out just where she was. Waking up from a forced unconsciousness really wasn't all that unusual in her life with the Doctor, but he was usually nearby. Wherever this was, it was distinctly uncomfortable. Her mouth felt dry and cottony and her head throbbed unpleasantly. A large portion of the throb she suspected came from the tender spot on her temple where she had been knocked on unconscious and the rest bafflingly came from the TARDIS, she thought. She could feel the old girl thrumming away in the back of her mind, working to rebuild the pieces of her that had been damaged in the explosion and yet still reaching out to try and comfort Rose. Rose tried to reach a hand up to press to her aching head only to dimly realize that she couldn't seem to move either arm. Or her legs, apparently. Finally, she opened her eyes, blinking at the bright, impersonal white of the room she was in.

She appeared to be sitting in a very uncomfortable white chair with her legs and arms cuffed down. She could move her head slightly to either side, which she used to take stock of the room. It was plain and white, white walls, white floor, white ceiling. The only thing in the entire room that wasn't plain and white, in fact, were two screens, approximately the size of computer monitors in the wall she was facing. Rose struggled a minute, trying to figure out just how she was restricted with the bonds when they tightened even more. She froze and then tentatively tried moving her left wrist. The restraint there tightened further, pinching uncomfortably. Ok, so moving was a poor idea. Unable to add much more information than that to her perusal of the situation, she sighed heavily and waited.

Just as she was starting to get bored staring at the blank monitors in front of her, a portion of the wall slid back and a man stepped inside. He was thin, dark and swarthy, looking nothing like the tall, blonde natives of the planet she had seen outside. His jet-black hair was slicked down against the sides of his pointed face and his beedy eyes reminded Rose of a rodent. She almost rolled her eyes when she saw his goatee. Could he get any more stereotypical evil villain? She sighed again.

"I see you're awake," he began, stepping closer to her and eyeing her with great interest.

"Wonderful observation!" Rose said conversationally. "Any other remarkable insights you'd like to share with the class?"

His eyes narrowed at her, looking her up and down before coming to rest on her left wrist. "I also see that you've noticed the brilliant design of my restraints," he smirked, seeing the way the metal was beginning to cut into her skin there.

"Yes, yes, nice work. They tighten when I move. Although, I hardly think you can claim credit for that. Stayed in a nice little prison on Isran VI where the restraints tightened if you even ithought/i about moving, so you might want to check your patent," Rose blustered. To her interest, the right monitor in front of her lit up green. Well, that was curious.

The man, Ratman, Rose had decided to call him, eyed the monitor a moment before turning back to her. "What do you think of my facility?" he asked and Rose wanted to roll her eyes again.

She turned her head from side to side as much as she could, eyeing the room critically. "Well, it's no Waldorf Astoria, that's for sure. And the color scheme could use a little work," she finished. The green monitor lit up again and she watched as a small vein popped in Ratman's jaw.

"Enough of your insolence," he snapped and Rose laughed out loud, making a second vein join the first.

"D'you have a script or something? Because, seriously? 'Enough of your insolence'? That's, that's classic evil overlord speak, that is." As she heard herself saying those words, Rose reflected a moment on how very much like the Doctor she sounded. Good Lord, she was turning into him.

He chose not to dignify her with an answer, instead scowling at her once again before schooling his features. "You are not of this planet. Why have you come here?"

"Sightseeing!" Rose answered immediately, grinning madly at him. "Streets of chocolate, fountains of gold. Wait, that's not quite right. Streets of gold, fountains of chocolate. That's better. Streets of chocolate, ha! Think how messy THAT would get." The green monitor was lit once again.

"Did you come alone?" Ratman asked, scowling at the green monitor.

Rose considered her answer. If she said no, she might be able to convince him that she had powerful friends coming to rescue her and scare him into letting her go. This man didn't seem particularly brave although the cold, cruel light in his dark eyes was not something she wanted to examine too closely. But the Doctor and Mickey were on their way to warn the rebel camp and she didn't want them getting caught too soon (well, actually how long had it been? She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. What if it was already sundown? If she didn't check in, the Doctor would be back here to get her out of this mess. If it wasn't sundown yet, she had plenty of time to get out of this mess herself and get back to him). And Reinette...she had no idea where that bitchy courtesan had gotten off to after selling her out, but ratting her out in return could put the woman in danger and she had promised the Doctor. So she settled on, "Yes. All alone, me," she lied confidently.

She barely registered the flash of red that came from the left hand monitor in front of her as electricity coursed through her veins. The pain was nothing like she'd ever felt before and, courtesy of her adventures, she'd felt some pretty terrible things. Every nerve ending in her body felt as though it had caught fire and, as her body convulsed, the restraints on her wrists and legs tightened.

Rose screamed and kilometers away, across the war-torn shell of a once beautiful city, a Timeship buried under rock and stone howled with her. And, somewhere far outside the outskirts of town leading a battalion of brave rebels away from their imminent doom, a Time Lord shuddered and wondered why.

The pain abruptly subsided just as quickly as it had come and Rose felt her head loll forward onto her chest. It took nearly all of her strength to raise it once again and when she did, she was met with the cruel smiling face of her captor, not unlike the expression she'd seen on Reinette's face before she'd woken up here.

"Now how do you feel about my facilities?" he said, leering at her. "Wonderful little invention, I have here. The telepathic field gets into your mind to ensure that you tell me the truth. So, let's try that again, shall we? Did you come to this planet alone?"

Rose raised her chin at him defiantly, ignoring the cutting pain at her wrists and ankles and the strange, unpleasant buzz of electricity still resonating through her body. "Yes," she repeated, looking him straight in the eye.

Even though she had been prepared for it this time, the shock coursing through her system did not hurt any less. In fact, if anything, it hurt even more, inflaming the already singed nerve endings in her body. She screamed once again and this time the pain was too much. She fell unconscious and her last coherent observation was that menacingly red-lit screen in front of her.

An undefinable amount of time later, Rose woke up. She groaned and felt around her, the cool, hard cement of something that was probably a cell under her cheek.

"Slowly," a kind, sad voice above her said. "Sit up slowly."

Rose obliged and painstakingly drug herself up into a sitting position to eye the speaker. It was a lovely, care-worn middle aged woman whose eyes watched her with concern. Her hair, which had once been blonde, Rose suspected was now a soft gray. "How are you feeling?" she asked, placing a hand on Rose's shoulder.

"A bit like I got hit by a lorry," Rose answered. In response, the woman gave her a confused look. "Sorry," Rose responded, shaking her hands slightly to try and get the pins and needles feeling out of them. "Not too great at the moment," she translated.

"That is to be expected," the woman replied. "Rathbourne's electroshock system is not kind to a body."

"Rathborne, huh?" Rose replied. "That's Ratman's real name?" she queried, getting unsteadily to her feet and stretching slightly. "Fits."

"Ratman? I do not understand your turn of phrase, stranger," the woman said, looking at her oddly again.

"Rats...nasty little parasitic vermin from my planet. I think he kinda looks like one," Rose responded. "Acts a bit like it, too."

The woman in front of her looked very surprised at her assessment and, unless Rose was reading her completely wrong in the semi-dark of their cell, a bit amused. The expression was very quickly chased away by concern as a moan came from the far corner of the cell. "Excuse me," the woman said, rushing toward the sound. Following her over and ignoring the pain in her limbs, Rose investigated the source.

It was an attractive (or once attractive) young man lying on the only cot available in the small space. His eyes were closed and sweat beaded his strong brow and plastered his blonde locks to his head. Even in his incapacitated state, Rose could tell he was someone important. The man moaned again and thrashed to the side, almost displacing himself from the cot. The woman raced forward to catch him along with an enormous man Rose was shocked not to have noticed before. How she had missed him, she had no idea. After straightening out the young man in the cot, he stood to his full height and retreated back against the wall once more. Rose gaped at him a moment. All the Bilaniskis she had seen through the halls of the castle had been tall by her standards but this was the largest man she had seen yet. He stood well over seven feet tall and his shoulders were broad and powerful. Everything about him spoke of strength and action and, as he crossed his arms and watched her with dark eyes, she was reminded powerfully of another strong, angry-eyed warrior who favored that position.

"What is wrong with him?" Rose asked, quietly, her concern radiating out from her, turning her attention back to the cot. This young man was clearly in great pain of some sort and she wished she could help him. Both blonde figures in the cell immediately looked at her with interest.

"He feels the suffering of our people. They toil and they hurt and there is nothing he can do to help them. Their pain is his pain and his pain is the pain of the planet. We will not last long like this," the woman replied, using her sleeve to wipe the brow of the young man, who whimpered at her.

"Who is he?" Rose asked, her voice still soft. She wanted to step forward and soothe the young man as well, but the dark eyes watching over him protectively warned her back.

"He is the Prince, of course," the woman replied, looking confused. When Rose made no comment or gesture of recognition, she continued, "You mentioned another planet...and you are clearly not of Bilanisky origin. Do you not know of the planet on which you are?"

"Not much, sorry," Rose responded, honestly and wishing she knew more about this strange place they'd landed themselves on in the middle of a war. "My, ah, tour guide didn't have a chance to tell me much before we got separated."

The woman looked at her curiously again. "You have chosen an odd time to come touring on our sad world, stranger," she said.

"Happens to us a lot," Rose muttered.

"Where is your tour guide now?" the woman inquired. Rose looked at her sharply, suspicion rising off her. Her instinct was to trust these people but she couldn't know for certain yet. "I mean you no harm!" The woman instantly raised her hands up to show she did, indeed, mean no harm, which Rose noted curiously. She hadn't said anything accusatory and thought she had kept most of the suspicion out of her gaze.

Looking from the woman to the sickly prince and then up to the enormous sentinel, Rose decided to trust them. "While we were snooping around the castle, we heard them speak of a raid on some rebel forces. He went to go warn them."

The woman sucked in a quick breath and Rose caught the man blink, although his face showed no more than that. "The rebellion still lives then?" she questioned, rising quickly and coming right in front of Rose, grasping her hands. She let go immediately when Rose let out a small hiss of pain but her eyes still beseeched Rose desperately.

"I don't know," Rose answered, honestly. "All I know is that the creepy guys in the red coats were talking about a raid and my friend went to warn them. Can you tell me what's happening here? Why is your prince sick? Who are the others down here?" she asked, gesturing down the line of cells she could see.

"We are the Prince's royal court," the woman answered. "My name is Waltha and I am the Prince's chief advisor." Rose nodded to her and then turned her attention to the tall, impassive man standing over the Prince. "That is Albeorn. He is the Prince's Protector."

"Rose Tyler. Nice to meet you," Rose said, walking over to him and sticking her hand out. Albeorn did not move to shake her hand or say anything in response. His dark eyes shifted to hers and then looked away.

"He does not speak," Waltha said, drawing Rose's attention back to her once more. Rose nodded once in acknowledgement of him and then walked back over to sink down on the floor near Waltha.

"So, tell me more about Ratman and his evil designs on your lovely planet," Rose said, shifting to find a spot that didn't rub the raw wounds around her wrists and ankles.

"Rathbourne came to our planet five years ago. He claimed he had a device that would make our kingdom run even smoother. Bilanisky was a happy place, a peaceful planet where many would come for rest and relaxation. When we declined his help, he activated his device anyway. Never did we dream that one like Rathbourne would come and destroy everything we had built," she said, despondently.

"What does the device do?" Rose asked, trying to see how much the Doctor had been right and figure out what exactly they were looking for.

"It controls those within the city walls. You have seen the controlled wandering the halls of our palace. Blue-eyed automatons. They do Rathbourne's bidding and nothing else. Do you know anything of the Bilanisky people?" Waltha inquired.

"No," Rose responded apologetically.

"We are Empaths," she responded, looking for some recognition in Rose's face. When she saw none, she continued, "We sense emotions in those around us. All Bilaniskis are connected together. One person's joy is all of our joy. One person's suffering is all of our suffering."

"And so those that are controlled are cut off from the rest of you, causing you all pain," Rose finished.

"Yes," Waltha responded. "But that is not all. We are not a violent people. It is impossible for us to cause pain to others without it causing pain to ourselves...but this war of Rathbourne's...it has forced us to take up arms against our own people. To destroy our own cities. And even those far distanced from this city feel the suffering not only of our people but of our economy."

"Tourism-based planet," Rose said, clicking the pieces together. "Not much of a tourist trade on a planet in the middle of a civil war."

"No," Waltha responded.

"So, why are you lot down here? Why keep you alive and not controlled? Why is he keeping your Prince alive?"

"Bilanski Royalty is connected to the very heart of the planet. If the Prince dies, then the planet will soon follow." Albeorn shifted slightly against the wall and made a subtle gesture with his head. Waltha looked up at him and then continued, "And we also believe Rathbourne also takes perverse pleasure in the suffering he is causing. The suffering of the people hurts the Prince and his suffering hurts us, those sworn to protect him."

"I'm sorry," Rose whispered to her, reaching out to grasp the older woman's hand. The Prince's advisor accepted Rose's hand and almost reeled from the sincerity and care that radiated out from the young woman.

"Don't worry," Rose continued, squeezing the hand in hers. "My friend, my...er, tour guide, he'll take care of this. We'll sort it out. It's what we do. You won't have to live like this much longer. He'll be here soon. I promise." And just like that, radiating out from the epicenter of this curious little stranger, came an emotion that the Bilaniskis hadn't felt in a very long time.

Pouring out unadulterated from her strong, solitary human heart, Rose Tyler gave them back a flicker of Hope.


	6. Chapter 6

High above the dungeon, Rathbourne paced through the wide elegant halls of his stolen castle toward his chamber rooms. The sudden appearance of the strange girl and her denial in having come alone was worrisome. He'd had no trouble subjugating and controlling the weak people of this pathetic yet rich planet but his machine seemed to have no effect on the newcomer. He would not be able to alter the telepathic field to include a new species without shutting it down first and even then it would only work if he was able to determine the girl's species. And he was not going to risk his entire operation because of one stupid girl. He would break her, destroy her and those that came with her and then he would kill them all.

After he'd had his fun with her, of course, he thought to himself, smiling wickedly. It was only a matter of finding the right buttons, asking the right questions, pushing the right doubts. It had been a while since he'd had a fighter, since he'd had a challenge.

And speaking of fun...he changed his course slightly and entered the room where his suitors stayed. Upon his entrance, every woman in the room stood and lined the center path through the room, smiling at him blankly, waiting for his choice of the evening. That was certainly one of the perks of being a ruler with absolute control over all your subjects...an entire kingdom of women who couldn't say no. As he walked through the line of women, one at the end caught his eye. It was a new woman...one he did not recognized.

One who did not belong.

He walked directly up to the strange woman and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him fiercely. "You do not belong here," he hissed, twisting the wrist in his grip slightly. "The rest of you, out," he barked and all the women walked slowly from the room, none of them reacting or even seeming to see his behaviour.

The woman in his hold gave him a calculating gaze. "That is true. You are a clever man," she replied, making no move to struggle or remove her wrist from his punishing grip.

"Did you think me stupid? That I would let you infiltrate my personal quarters to some benefit? That I would not notice you? I will throw you in the dungeon with your little friend. After you have been adequately punished, of course," he said, shifting his grip to the woman's hip. "She just experienced my electroshock treatments. Would you like a taste of the same?"

To his surprise, she gave a short laugh. "Oh, she is not my friend."

"Why should I believe anything you say?" he asked, pulling her roughly toward him.

"Because you want the information that I have," she replied easily as if his treatment of her meant nothing.

"I can make you tell me anything I like," he scoffed, moving his hand up to her hair and tugging it slightly so her neck was more exposed to him. It was enthralling, this game. He hadn't been directly challenged in years, his control here was so absolute. And here two women had suddenly come from nowhere to do just that.

"Yes, you probably could," Reinette admitted unconcernedly. If she played her cards right here, she could dispose of her competition, live the next few days until the Doctor made his way here in luxury and still come out looking the innocent damsel. "I'm sure you could make me scream," she added, watching him closely as his eyes darkened. This one liked being challenged but liked being in control. Oh, she could play him like a fiddle. "Or...I could just give it to you," she replied, moving her shoulders back so he looked down to see her creamy breasts rise and fall and emphasizing the last bit of her statement in a breathy tone that went straight to his groin.

"But before you make any rash decisions, perhaps you should listen to what I have to say. Our goals are perhaps not as far distant from each other as you might think," the woman said, eyeing him closely and he saw something of himself in her gaze, a predator, a survivalist. One who knew what she wanted and how to get it. One of her hands moved to his chest, her thumb making small circles in the fabric there. "I'm sure," she purred, pressing closer to him, "that together we'll be able to come up with a solution that is mutually beneficial to us both," she finished, dragging her hand down his chest to cup him suddenly. He growled at her, unused to such forwardness in his suitors. "In fact," she whispered, massaging gently until he growled again, "I can think of all sorts of benefits I can offer you. Right now."

He pushed her up against the nearest wall her her leg instantly went up over his hip. "One wrong move and I will make you wish you had never been born," he rasped into her ear.

"Oh, I have no doubt," she replied with a wicked smile, grinding up against him.

Neither of them spoke for a long time after that.

_Just outside the city_

The Doctor and Mickey silently made their way through the city toward the edge, avoiding intermittent patrols of red-coated robotic-moving men toward the area the rebels were supposed to be occupying.

They had just barely reached the edge of the city when they both found themselves suddenly surrounded by five fierce-looking, dirty, tired Bilaniskis. "Do not move and identify yourselves!" barked the largest man, brandishing some sort of weapon toward them.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. This is Mickey. We, er...we come in peace, I suppose. Well, actually we've come to help," the Doctor said with a huge grin, raising his hands above his head and motioning for Mickey to do the same.

"We do not need your help, strangers," the man barked, motioning to the men around them and the circle tightened. "The last time an off-worlder came to our planet offering assistance, he ripped our planet asunder."

"That's what we're here to help with, actually," the Doctor continued, slowly lowering his hands. "I can help you take back your planet. I can help you regain your freedom. Look at my motives. You know I'm telling the truth," he finished. Careful to leave his mental shields mostly up, he pushed his honest desire to help them to the forefront of his mind.

Both the man and the warrior-like woman to his right exchanged a glance and focused on the Doctor and then on Mickey. After an intense moment, they both nodded and the man turned his gaze back to the Doctor.

"Very well," the man said, reluctantly. This new stranger radiated honesty and power and they needed all the help they could get. This castle raid had been ill-fated but they were reaching a standstill. Much longer and they would be out of food anyway and the resistance would die. He lowered his weapon and gestured for the surrounding troops to do the same. The Doctor noted that although their weapons had been lowered, each warrior kept a hand on his or her weapon just the same. His hearts tugged again, thinking of these bright, happy people as they should be, as they were supposed to be. It was nothing like the hardened, battle-scarred people in front of him. "My name is Mathis and I am the Commander of the remaining rebel forces. This is Soluna. She is my second-in-command," Mathis said, gesturing to the fierce woman by his side who nodded to them.

The Doctor nodded politely back at them. "This is Mickey Smith and I'm the Doctor. And, now that we're all acquainted, we need to get out of here. Now."

Commander Mathis' eyebrows drew in. "We cannot leave now, Doctor. This is the closest we have managed to get to the city for months. Rathbourne's defenses are low. Now is the time to strike!"

"It's a trap, actually," the Doctor said and the Commander whipped around to scowl at him. "There's a huge force on its way to wipe you all out right now."

"How can you know that?" Soluna asked, joining in the Commander's scowl.

"We heard them discussing it while we were snooping around the palace. That's why we came. I couldn't let it happen. I can promise you that what I say is the truth and I'll be happy to discuss it with you further but, as I said, that discussion is going to have to take place at a later time and in a different locale."

The Commander studied him closely again and then turned his head for some furtive words with Soluna. "Very well," he said, in a heavy voice. "Gather the troops. We retreat."

"Wise decision," the Doctor said and, with that, the small rebel force gathered two new members and slipped off into the waning sunlight for safer grounds.

As they walked, the Doctor questioned the Commander on the situation here and postulated what it meant for the people. Once they were a safe distance from the city walls, the Doctor motioned for the group to stop. "Yes?" Mathis questioned, anxious to get back to their camp.

"I have two friends in the castle. They're supposed to meet us at the outer edge of the city at sundown. I need to wait for them," he said.

"We need to keep moving, Doctor," Soluna replied. "Rathbourne's men will not be able to follow us this far out from the city's perimeter but there are other creatures that roam the night that have no such restrictions."

"I'll be fine," he said, waving his hand. "I'm not leaving without my other friends."

"Doctor, it's not safe enough for us to stay here and you are our newest and best hope. We need to get to safety as soon as possible. Farnell!" he barked.

A young blonde man instantly appeared at his side, saluting sharply. "Farnell is one of our most reliable men. He will stay hidden here and will escort your friends back the camp with him when they appear. Is that agreeable to you?" Mathis asked in a voice that indicated he was not normally a man to check if his orders were 'agreeable' with others.

The Doctor begrudgingly agreed to let Farnell wait for Rose under the condition that if the three of them did not arrive at the rebel camp by the next morning, he would immediately leave for the castle regardless of situation.

_Deep below the Bilaniski Castle_

Rose leaned back against the wall of her cold cell, stretching out her sore legs. Waltha had been drug from their cell for 'questioning' several moments earlier, leaving Rose alone with Albeorn and the Prince. She stuck her hands down into the pockets of her leather jacket and noticed for the first time that she had a few objects in there. Curious, she pulled out a sturdy looking nail file, a very small pocket knife, a miniature magnifying glass and a packet of antiseptic wipes.

Studying the objects closely, she decided the TARDIS must have given them to her since she certainly hadn't put anything like that in the pockets of this new jacket before she left. If the Timeship had deemed the items necessary enough to pack in her pockets for her, they must all serve some purpose, Rose thought. The TARDIS had been apprehensive about coming here and had practically begged her not to leave the console room. She must have known, must have seen some flash of the events that would transpire here.

Rose got to her feet and walked over to the bars that separated her from freedom. She felt around the lock (electronic opening of some sort - no lock to pick...but it would be easily shorted by the sonic). The bars seemed to be a metal of some sort. Pulling the file from her pocket, she applied it to one of the bars and, after a few minutes of solid filing, noticed she'd made a slight dent in the bar. Well, that would be useful. That explained the file, then.

The antiseptic wipes were also fairly self-explanatory. Hissing slightly at the pain, she dabbed one corner of a wipe over the raw flesh of her wrists and ankles. The antibodies in the 38th century wipes would not only help her resist infection, but would also speed up the healing process.

So, that left her with the tiny pocket knife and the mirror. The pocket knife wasn't big enough to function as a real weapon of any sort and there was not lock to pick and she was at a loss as to why the TARDIS thought she might want a small mirror. Well, maybe she would figure it out later.

Suddenly across the cell, Rose heard the Prince make a low, frantic moaning sound. She raised her eyes to Albeorn's, who had been watching her closely but was now focused on the tortured young man. Walking over to him slowly, not wanting his Protector to think she wanted to hurt him, Rose stopped near his bedside. "What is causing him pain?" she asked, quietly.

Albeorn looked her in the eye and then shifted his gaze slightly to the ground where Waltha's scarf laid on the ground. "He's feeling Waltha's pain?" Rose asked. Albeorn nodded. "May I?" she questioned, hesitantly reaching a hand out toward the Prince's clammy, clenched fists.

Albeorn studied her a moment and then nodded, motioning toward him in a gesture that even seemed to say 'please'. Rose reached out and entwined the fingers of his right hand with hers, sending him calming, comforting thoughts as best she could. The familiar pressure of fingers locked between hers made her think of the Doctor and she wondered how he was faring. Was it sundown yet? Would he be storming back in here to save them? She missed him, missed his hand in hers. As she thought about the many times he'd clasped her hand just like this to give comfort, to give solidity in cells just like these, the Prince stopped moaning and his countenance seemed to lighten. Rose looked down at him, surprised by his sudden silence. Her worry for the Doctor made his eyebrows draw together, her hopefulness made his shoulders relax and her thoughts of his cool hand in hers calmed his breathing until he fell into a more normal sleep.

After he had been quiet for a while and Rose's legs were beginning to ache from crouching beside him, she felt a large, heavy hand lay gently on her shoulder. She looked up into Albeorn's large, luminous dark eyes. He nodded to her once and Rose was once again amazed at how much he managed to convey in that simple gesture. He was thanking her for comforting the man and telling her she could let go now. Rose nodded back to him and gave him a small smile before retreating to the opposite wall to try and find a semi-comfortable position in which to get a few hours of sleep. Her earlier torture, not to mention the emotional wringer she'd been through for the past few days, were taking their toll and she knew she would need to be well-rested enough to run once the Doctor showed up.

She awoke a little later to a distinctly unpleasant sound, the sound of someone being beaten. Hard. And wasn't it sad she knew that sound well-enough to recognize it like that? Sitting bolt upright, she launched herself at the bars of her cell. Just outside, in clear view of every cell, a tall, wide, cruel man was circling a worn-looking Bilaniski wearing clothes similar to Waltha and Albeorn's, who was curled up in a ball but accepting the horrible man's beating without a single fight. Rose opened her mouth to yell, whether at the man to defend himself from the cruel torrent of blows he was receiving or at the man dealing them out she wasn't sure, but she felt she had to say SOMETHING. A large palm closed over her mouth and, surprised, Rose spun around to see Albeorn standing right behind her sadly shaking his head.

Keeping his hand over her mouth, he led her back into the darkness of their cell over by the Prince to Waltha, who had returned while she slept, looking tired and hurt. "It will do no good, Rose," the older woman said, sounding infinitely tired. "You will only bring a worse punishment on yourself."

"Who is that?" Rose asked once Albeorn had let go of her mouth and moved back to his normal position as silent sentinel by the Prince's bedside.

"Muro," Waltha spat out as if the very name pained her. "He came with the man who destroyed our kingdom and delights in hurting others even more than Rathbourne."

"Why don't they fight back?" Rose whispered, watching in horror as the man was drug back into his cell by two of the red-coated automatons and a woman was drug out into his place, acting in the exact same fashion.

"They say it is worse if you fight back," Waltha answered. "Besides, what do we have to fight for, Rose Tyler?" she asked sadly.

"For hope!" Rose whispered fervently. "For life! For the future!" Waltha looked up at her sharply as a wave of emotion washed through the girl so strongly, Waltha thought every Bilaniski in the city must have felt it. How long had it been since the people here had felt anything besides pain so strongly?

Just then the horrible, greasy man came strolling over to leer at the group huddled back in the corner of their cell. "I heard we had a newcomer," he said, false charm oozing from his tone. "I think it's time we were properly introduced," he said, cracking his knuckles menacingly and wiping the blood from the previous two on his shirt, gesturing for the two redcoats to open the door to the cell.

"Don't fight it," Waltha whispered fearfully.

Rose stood up, raising her chin defiantly. Walking out of the cell with her shoulders back before the guards grabbed her and forced her to her knees, Rose looked back at the woman and answered, "Not a chance. The day I stop fightin' is the day I die."

Somewhere outside the city, far away, a Time Lord shuddered as though someone had just walked over his grave.


	7. Chapter 7

Levus Farnell was getting very tired of waiting. He had dutifully positioned himself outside the city walls watching for the mysterious companions of their newest mysterious recruit but had, so far, seen neither hide nor hair of them. What he had seen was an enormous battalion of soldiers, presumably the force this Doctor fellow had saved them from in the first place. The Commander had not only positioned him here to find these women; he'd also instructed Levus to find out if the stranger had been telling the truth. He wasn't sure whether it was for the better or not.

It was growing very dark, far past dusk and he was preparing to head back to the camp. The Doctor's friends, if they had been going to come, had obviously been detained...or worse. He would have to go back empty-handed and that was bad. The stranger seemed dangerous and the look in his eye when he'd spoken of the two...it would not end well for someone. On the plus side, he would be able to get away from the city and that was very, very good. It was dangerous to be this close to the walls, this close to those Rathbourne controlled. In fact, he wasn't completely sure he was out of their range. He'd gotten closer searching for the women who had been assigned his protection, worried that they might turn up and he would miss them. Turning from his semi-hidden position against the wall, he rose and stretched tight muscles, preparing himself for the run back to camp...and then promptly fell to the ground unconscious from a sharp, precise blow to the head.

* * *

Rose slowly came back to consciousness, pulled by an incredible pain in her left shoulder. She slowly sat up to face the other three occupants of her cell (well, two she supposed. The unconscious Prince didn't really count.)

"Slowly," Waltha's voice came through the haze of her pain. Rose blinked and sat up to face the concerned, haggard woman once again.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Rose muttered, stretching her jaw and wincing at the tenderness there.

"I'm sorry?" Waltha questioned, helping Rose to her feet.

"Nothin', just making a joke," she replied wearily, taking stock of the injuries. Mostly bruises, she thought but her inability to properly move her left arm was worrying. And extremely painful.

"How can you joke at a time like this? When you've experienced what you have?" the woman asked, looking at Rose with what appeared to be awe. "Your Hope still shines. How is this possible?"

"Human," Rose answered, using her right arm to point to herself and then grimacing. "And this happens to me more than you'd believe," she finished, grimly. Well, maybe not QUITE like this, but still.

Albeorn came to stand over next to her, his wide, dark eyes focused on her mangled shoulder. When they transferred up to meet her gaze, he made a distinctly unpleasant motion with his head and then gestured to the joint. Her first Doctor had once put a dislocated shoulder in for her and she knew what was coming. Rose gritted her teeth and nodded to him. This was going to hurt even worse, but in the end it would be for the better. Sighing heavily, she laid back down on the ground at his motion to her and tried to relax as he bent her elbow back. Biting her lip as he slowly rotated the arm back and forth, she ignored the tears running down her face until she felt the joint pop back into place. The large man sat back on his heels and gave her a small, encouraging smile before replacing his stoic mask and returning to the Prince's side.

Waltha took her scarf and made Rose a make-shift sling and Rose found herself wondering once again about the kindness of strangers, feeling a surge of gratitude to them She was surprised from her musings when the Prince made another small but encouraging sound from his bed, prompting both Waltha and Rose to come over to him. His hand raised up and, to both of their immense surprise, seemed to reach for Rose. Glancing over at the other two figures, both of whom nodded, Rose took the man's hand. "Empath, right?" Rose murmured and Waltha nodded, taking the Prince's other hand. "So...think happy thoughts?" she asked and then snickered to herself. A right old Peter Pan she was now.

At the sound of her gentle laughter, the Prince stirred a little more. Rose continued to sit by the man, trying to work through some her happiest memories and ignoring the ache in her muscles and the burn of her bruises. As the evening wore on, his face gained a little more color and eventually Albeorn laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, telling her she could release the man now. Extracting her hand from the Prince's, Rose wandered over to the bars of their cell, re-examining the locking mechanism and the door. If she'd learned anything from the Doctor, it was to always be prepared with an exit strategy. Or several.

Seeing nothing new that would help with the lock, she settled back onto the floor and began filing away at the bar she'd made some progress on earlier. If she could get through the bars enough to weaken them but not enough for someone to notice, Albeorn might be able to pull them apart. When her hand grew tired of filing, she moved off into "her" corner to re-examine the objects in her pocket. The magnifying glass and tiny pocket knife were still a bit of a mystery. She sat against the wall with one foot propped up, tapping the tiny knife against the sole of her boot and twirling the magnifying glass in the other. Her thoughts drifted to memories of Mickey, the two of them as children at the estate with Mickey frying ants with a magnifying glass very similar to the one she held in her hand and her chastising him for his cruelty.

She started, looking down at the object in her hand more closely. Where had that memory come from? She certainly hadn't thought about it for years and years. The gentle hum at the corner of her consciousness grew louder for a moment and then receded back into a comforting lull. Looking around the room, she took note of the light to the side of the cell and stood to examine it. There was no bulb to break but it radiated heat and when she held the magnifying glass to it and focused a beam of light from it on her palm it became even warmer and the hum grew louder in her head once again.

iOk, then, Tyler,/i she thought. iFigure this out. The TARDIS wants you to use that magnifying glass to do something, to make something hotter. Make something melt?/i Rose looked around the room and tried to see what she might heat up to her benefit. The beam wouldn't travel far, so it almost had to be something she could bring to the light. Suddenly, her key grew warm against her skin and Rose started, pulling the hot metal from her chest and almost dropping the magnifying glass.

Her key. Ok. But she certainly couldn't get the key hot enough to melt it (and, knowing the Doctor, she sincerely doubted it was even possible). Plus, it was her one constant connection to the TARDIS, to home, to ihim/i. She wouldn't give it up, not while she still had breath in her body. Shifting on the floor, her boot squeaked against the cement floor and the idea clicked into place.

Her key.

She suddenly received a barrage of memory clips: of Rathbourne's greedy eyes, of Reinette's simpering smile and of the TARDIS, alone and unprotected. "Whoa! Slow down. I get it!" she said, staggering back a moment against the mental onslaught and then a wave of apology came in. "It's ok," she whispered, ignoring the strange looks Albeorn and Waltha were giving her. "I'll fix it. He won't get a hold of you."

Sitting back down on the floor, she struggled to remove her boot one handed and then huffed in frustration. One-handed this was nearly an impossible task. Just as she was thinking that, Albeorn appeared at her side, holding an enormous hand out for her boot. She smiled at him in thanks and his head shifted down and back up again in the slightest nod of acknowledgement. With his help, Rose softened the rubber of her boot's substantial heel and used the knife to make a small incision, inserting the key and then manipulating the malleable rubber back. Sitting back down on the floor, the man helped her re-tie the shoe and then silently returned to his post beside the Prince's bed.

She replaced the chain around her neck, unusually light without the comforting weight of the small piece of metal that usually hung on it, and fell into an uneasy doze; her dreams ran wild with the turned backs of big-eared Doctors who demanded keys back and pinstriped Doctors who rode away through broken glass without a backward glance.

Across the cell, the Prince moaned in his sleep and the people of Bilanisky shifted uncomfortably as they all felt the fear of abandonment one small human whose love was bigger than her poor single heart could contain could not conceal in her nightmares.

* * *

_Rathbourne's Chambers_

Pulling herself elegantly to one side of the wide, expansive bed, Reinette smirked down at the man to her side, who was panting, with a sheen of sweat still covering his brow. Men were not terribly complicated creatures and Reinette had figured out long ago just how to make them bend to her will.

"Did that meet your satisfaction, my Lord?" she said with a wicked smile that told him she already knew the answer.

"For now," he growled, scowling at her expression and moving to kick his feet off the bed and re-dress. "Now. You said you had information. You will give it to me. Immediately. Or I will find other ways of extracting it from you."

"Temper, temper," she said, stretching and smiling to herself as his gaze moved from her face downward before flicking back up again. "Have you not learned, in all your time as ruler, that sometimes there are more effective ways of getting what you wish than the threat of violence?"

"You dare to lecture me on tactics? I AM THE RULER OF THIS KINGDOM!" he shouted, which Reinette might have found more intimidating if he had on trousers.

"Of course you are," she said, sliding from the bed and into the opulent dressing gown laid over the chair next to it (his, she noted).

"I am merely making a suggestion, your liege," she purred, sauntering over to him and putting her hands on his chest. "You already have me. Ask me what you want to know."

"What are you? How did you get here? And why have you come?" he started, frowning at her and turning partially away, keeping an eye on her as he pulled on his trousers.

"I am a human from the planet Earth," she replied, sitting down on the edge of his expansive bed and crossing her long legs impressively. It was strange to speak of such things, but she was nothing if not adaptable. She merely had to reveal enough to this man to keep herself in his good and luxuriant graces until the Doctor came along and she could convince him that she'd been held against her will. And if the Doctor was unsuccessful, well, life as a queen here wouldn't be so bad either.

Rathbourne's eyes narrowed. "I have never heard of your planet or species. How did you get here? Are all humans capable of such travel?"

"Only some," she said carefully, not revealing that the Doctor was, more than likely, not human. She wasn't sure, really, but if she needed to reveal that later, she could. The trick now was to only reveal a bit at a time, keep Rathbourne interested and needing her.

"And how did you come here?" he asked, dark eyes glittering maliciously. It had been a long time since any unfortunate visitors had come to Bilanisky and he was always on the lookout for new technology to scavenge.

"In a highly unusual ship," Reinette teased, watching for his interest to peak. "I do not fully understand the capabilities of such a vessel, but I can assure you that you have never seen anything like it."

"How so?" he queried, coming closer to her.

"It would appear at first glance to be a shoddy piece of workmanship but the inside...it's larger on the inside than the exterior would lead you to believe," Reinette chose her words carefully, knowing she had won this round when his eyes lit up.

"What did you say?" he breathed. Bigger on the inside...the legends, the myths. Was it really possible?

"It is, as I said, larger on the interior," she repeated, once again lounging back against the bed.

"Where is this ship? I must know. I must have it," Rathbourne fervently answered, pulling her back into a standing position and gripping her shoulders. "Tell me it is in the city. Tell me!"

"I must warn you, it is buried under a large pile of rubble. It was within the walls but I am afraid I was very distressed by our landing and could probably not find the place again. But I am sure your many workers could find it easily. But why, if I may be so bold, does it matter if the ship is within the perimeter of the city? Surely a man so powerful as you does not limit the scope of his rule to such a petty area."

"My mind-control device has a limited range. I can only control the Biliniski people within the confines of the city," Rathbourne answered absently, his mind already whirling with the implications of finding working Timeship. Oh, the things he could do if the legends of the Gallifreyan TARDIS were true...

Reinette filed that information away for a later moment. If she played her cards correctly here, she could get Rathbourne to uncover the TARDIS and bring it here so if the Doctor showed up, they could escape easily and she could easily win his trust by convincing him that she had brought it here for solely that purpose. Chances were good he would be so overjoyed at the sight of his ship, he would forget about the annoying chav and they could be on their way. And if it took a bit of iconvincing/i on her part to make a hasty exit...well, she hadn't been lying when she'd told his servants that she admired those long fingered hands of his.

He was, after all, just a man.

Rathbourne called in one of his men and Reinette listened with satisfaction as he ordered the man to find the ship, letting her describe its odd exterior. Just as he had been turning back to her, another man burst into his chamber. "Sir! We caught a spy near the westward wall. His is in the interrogation area awaiting your instruction, sire."

Rathbourne cast a mistrustful look over his shoulder toward Reinette and then instructed the man to guard her closely. When he had left the room, she turned to the guard and gave him her best simpering smile. "A spy! Why, how absolutely terrifying! You simply imust/i tell me all about it," she tried, frustrated when his glassy blue eyes looked at her vaguely, as if not really understanding her words. After a few more unsuccessful attempts to find out the identity of the prisoner, she huffed in frustration and settled herself back on the bed. Assuming that it was not, in fact the Doctor, she needed to find some way to delay his arrival. The TARDIS had not yet arrived and she was sure the chav was still alive down in the dungeon.

Moments later, another red-coated man appeared at the door and escorted her to what she assumed was the interrogation area. Strapped in a chair in the white room was a tall, blonde man whose head lolled forward onto his chest, evidently unconscious. His wrists were bleeding where the metal of his restraints had sunk into his skin and dried blood was visible on his forehead.

"Do you know this man?" Rathbourne questioned.

"No," Reinette answered, carefully keeping her relief that it was not the Doctor from her face. "I have never seen him before. He looks as though he is a native of this planet."

"He said he was waiting for two women, the companions of the alien man who told them he could help free them from me. Who is the alien? Why have you really come here?" he asked, advancing on her in the small room.

Trying to look as small as possible, Reinette pressed herself back against the wall. "We came here for sightseeing and got caught in the rebellion," she answered, trying to seem non-threatening. "The girl and I were to gain intelligence and then meet our companion on the outskirts of the city by nightfall."

"And this alien...he dares to oppose me? He thinks he can outwit me? Take what is rightfully mine?" he snarled, reaching up to strike her. "And you...thinking you could fool me with your whoring and smart words?"

"He is powerful, that much I know. He is very clever and he has tools like magic. And he will be on his way here very soon if he does not hear from us. But if you send a message back with this man, you could delay his arrival considerably. Perhaps enough to take control of his ship, even," she said carefully.

"And why would you tell me that? What is your angle in all of this?" he asked, his eyes narrowing and hand dropping back down to his side.

"I have no great love for him or the others. As I told you earlier, your highness, I am simply out for the outcome most beneficial to me. And again, if I might be so bold, it would appear that you and I could be very successful together."

"Prove to me your cleverness, then. What would you have me do? And note, if I detect any deceit or weakness in your plan, I will make you wish you were dead."

"Very well," she answered, drawing in a breath. "The man must return to the rebel encampment with news of us or the Doctor will be here immediately and he is a man that does not take well to threats. I have no experience with technology such as yours, but surely a device so clever that it can make hundreds of men all bow to you, has other uses as well. Make him believe he received notice from us. Make him believe that we still gather intelligence, that we are safe...disguised as the household staff, perhaps. If the Doctor does not believe us to be in danger, then he will not come back soon, giving you time to take his ship for yourself and to prepare for the inevitable attack coming from the rebels."

Rathbourne considered her a moment and then an oily smile crawled across his features, echoed by one of her own. "You know madame...I think you may be right. I believe we can be very successful together. Come, let me show you just how much my device can do." He offered the courtesan his arm and the two of them walked out of the room together, each of them secretly planning the demise of the other with great glee.


	8. Chapter 8

The following days, or at least what Rose figured were days since she saw never saw the outside to calculate the rise and fall of this planet's sun (not that she knew how long a day lasted on this planet anyway - that was question normally answered by her own living, breathing, chattering but- still-stubbornly-absent wristwatch) passed by in a haze of distinctly unpleasant experiences. Every so often, she would be drug from her cell up to sass back at Rathbourne in the face of his insidious questions and torture and would eventually awake sprawled on the floor of her cell. Occasionally on her way to the White Room, Rose would pass a gloating Reinette elegantly adorned in the rich fashions of the planet. The last time Rose had seen her, it had taken all three of her escort guards and sharp wrench of her bad shoulder to keep the courtesan from Rose's flying fists. Her session with Rathbourne had lasted even longer that day, with his eyes continually darting to the one-way mirror into the room, Rose had no doubt That Woman was on the other side watching her session with delight.

Later Muro would appear and she would first watch as some helpless Bilanisky was dragged from his or her cell and beaten and then would be dragged forth herself. She knew he was only beating her every day to try and break her, to try and keep her from fighting back but fight back she did. Every day, not matter the time or the pain or the exhaustion. As she had told Waltha, Rose Tyler would always fight. Rose Tyler didn't give up. And eventually, Rose Tyler would win.

And then she was going to kick some Time Lord arse.

* * *

When she wasn't outside the cell, she surreptitiously filed the bars, held the Prince's hand or exchanged thoughts with the TARDIS. The TARDIS seemed to be healthier but the ship was still concerned and Rose knew that She could feel Rose's pain as well. She did notice that the Prince's color seemed to be returning and as the days wore on, his fever seemed to go down as well. All around her, Rose could see more life returning to the faces of the Bilanski people in their cells; heads held higher, eyes made brighter, voices stronger. What she didn't know, couldn't know, was that she was the reason for their change.

The Empaths had first been astounded by the depth of emotion pouring from the small human, entranced by torrential downpour of her alien emotions. There was great compassion, immense love and, reigning above all else, hope. It flowed into them from her and from their healing Prince and as it spread, each new flicker added to the small, simmering fire of rebellion, slowly readying to ignite.

After days and days of (literally) torturous monotony, everything suddenly seemed to shift at once. For one thing, Rose suddenly felt as if the TARDIS was much closer to her. She'd fallen into an uneasy sleep on the floor of her cell awaiting Muro's impending appearance and when she'd awoken, the TARDIS' song had seemed much, much closer. Rose's heart leapt into her throat. Maybe he was here! Maybe the Doctor had found a way to unearth the Timeship and had finally arrived to get her out of here! The shocks, the taunting, the injuries (including what she was sure was now a broken collarbone on that same left side) they would all be over soon. He would be here and they could blow this hellhole, take That Woman back to her time period (he'd said she had to return...but Rose certainly had some plans for her in the meantime), heal her up in the MedBay and then she could figure out just what she was going to do with the git who'd gotten her caught in this situation in the first place. Her body would heal quickly and her heart, well, she'd just have to see, wouldn't she?

However, coming from the TARDIS was not the warm relief she would have expected when the ship got her Thief back. Instead, the TARDIS seemed even more worried, even more frantic and her sudden proximity slammed the emotions into Rose even harder. Frustrated, Rose knew She was trying to tell her SOMETHING but she couldn't figure out what it was.

Muro had appeared moments later, his eyes glinting madly and ordered his guards to pull one of the Bilaniski men from the cell beside theirs forward. Amicus, an old school friend of the Prince's, once the Captain of his guard, was ordered to be brought forward. Rose had exchanged some quiet words with him through the bars of their cells and she had found, underneath his gloom, he was kind and a bit cheeky, just like another Captain she had once known. It broke her heart to see such a once-proud man simply roll over and accept punishment for a crime he had not committed and her heart clenched as Muro's guards forced him down on his knees in front of the horrid man.

_C'mon, fight!_ she thought, wishing with all her might that he could hear her. _Don't just let them do this. Fight him! Fight for your planet, for your future!_

His head snapped up and around to lock eyes with her and then, quick as lightning, he was on his feet. Amicus easily overpowered his two suprised guards and managed to get a swing in at Muro as well before five more guards rushed through the doors to subdue him. Held down by all five men, his final beating was even worse than the ones Rose usually suffered, but his actions had been enough.

The next prisoner brought forward, a middle aged woman Rose had never been introduced to, actually got in a scratch across their torturer's face before a heavy blow to the head felled her as well.

Panicked and angry, Muro and his fleet of guards had retreated from the dungeon with a threatening scowl at Rose, telling her he would be back for her. Rushing to the edge of her cell, Rose reached out to touch Amicus' bloody hand just millimeters from her cell.

"That was very brave," she whispered to him.

The man raised a battered head to look at her with one eye as the other had already swollen shut and, to her surprise, he smiled. "Should have done it a long time ago."

She gave him a shaky smile in return and stood to give him some privacy when his hand tightened on hers a moment. "Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?" Rose asked, frowning.

"For giving us back some Hope," he replied before closing his good eye and falling asleep.

* * *

Above his dungeon, unaware of the growing rebellion, Rathbourne paced around the mysterious blue box that his guards had brought to him. It didn't make any sense. He'd heard that a Time Lord's TARDIS could take any shape, could disguise itself as anything. He'd expected to have to sift through piles and piles of rubble to find the disguised ship and instead they had found an anachronistic, strange blue box buried beneath the rubble emitting a very strong telepathic signal.

Since it's arrival, he and his men had tried everything in his power to get inside the box but nothing had worked: tools, explosives, expletives...all they had done was make the hum of the ship louder and, if he wasn't imagining things, more annoyed. A thorough (and then distracting) search and questioning of Reinette had gotten him nothing. Evidently, she was relatively new resident on the ship and did not yet have a means for entering.

But...she had then pointed out that she was certain the troublesome, defiant servant he tortured on a daily basis had been with the Time Lord much longer than she had. Surely the girl knew how to get into the ship...

* * *

To Rose's surprise, it was not Muro who next appeared in her cell, but two of Rathbourne's men. She could hear the TARDIS in her mind, whimpering in fear and concern. What could possibly have the TARDIS so worked up? Clearly the Doctor wasn't here...or if he was, he was in grave danger. A negative worked its way into Rose's subconscious. Ok, then. If the TARDIS wasn't worried about the Doctor, who was she worried about?

Neither of the two remaining options felt very good to Rose.

As she stumbled through the hallways, trying to keep up with the guards whose severe hold did not give her much leeway, she realized the TARDIS' song was getting stronger. They were leading her to the TARDIS! She was shoved inside a wide spacious room and there, at the far end, singing her to desperately was the TARDIS! Scratches, burn marks and other signs of heavy abuse scoured the weathered, blue wood and Rose was instantly as furious as the TARDIS. She spared a moment to realize that the TARDIS was reflecting the same feelings of anger, horror and pity at Rathbourne's treatment of Rose.

The TARDIS and her Wolf. They would get through this the only way they knew how. Together.

Rathbourne's men forced her to her knees facing away from the TARDIS as the man himself swept into the room, Muro on his heels, beady black eyes gleaming with delight and Reinette gliding into the room in another beautiful, expensive dress, watching with amusement.

"Open the ship!" Rathbourne commanded in the voice he used to order his servants around, a voice that left no room for disobedience.

Except from Rose. "No," Rose answered and Muro stepped forward immediately to backhand her across the face. The TARDIS roared in her mind and, to Rose's surprise, the guard on her left flinched. Interesting.

Rose spat some blood on the floor at Rathbourne's feet and spared a scowl for Reinette before turning her head back up to Rathbourne. "What makes you think I can open it?" she asked.

"A servant must have entrance to her master's domain," Reinette purred from the side of the room.

"I ain't no servant," Rose spat back and Muro used his hand against her again. "And you are never, ever, getting into Her."

"A key, my lord," Reinette said, gliding forward to lay hand on Rathbourne's arm, ignoring Rose's response. "I have seen her wearing a key on a chain around her neck."

"I haven't got a key," Rose lied easily, her head spinning from Muro's last blow. She was glad the Ship had helped her hide the key safely away in the heel of her boot. There was no way in hell she was ever letting any of these horrible people into the TARDIS. And Reinette...well, something would have to be done about her. The TARDIS growled in agreement.

Rathbourne stepped forward and yanked the zip on Rose's jacket down to expose the chain dangling from her neck. He ripped it off easily and Rose hid her smile of triumph as he found nothing but the delicate silver. Her glee didn't last long, however, as he stepped back with a cold light in his eyes.

"You," he commanded to the right guard. "Escort my Lady back to her chambers. Muro, get some control over your charges in the dungeon. And you," he commanded, turning to Rose's left guard. "Strip and search her," he ordered, almost lazily, leaning back against the wall to watch.

If she could just get to the TARDIS...she was sure the Ship would let her in. Rose reared up, settling into a defensive posture, ready to ward off the attack as she had so often done of late, but the figure coming to her slowly subtly shook his head. Just a tiny shake, one she almost would never have seen. It gave her pause and she kept her body tense, remembering his flinch at the TARDIS' telepathic rage, and she watched him closely.

As he neared her and she looked into his blue eyes, she saw a flicker of something she didn't normally see in the horrible deadened eyes of Rathbourne's men. There was knowledge there and sorrow. Something new and different buried underneath the layer of cold nonchalance of all the rest. This man was different, somehow.

He was trying desperately to get her to trust him and so Rose decided she would. She also knew that she needed to pretend to put up a fight. He came at her but it was with deceptively gentle hands. He pinned her against the wall, although the majority the loud slam came from his subtly placed knee and not her body, which was stopped centimeters from the wall by a strong hand on her hip. "I'm sorry, my lady," a voice whispered in her ear. Her good arm was wrenched back behind her, her left protected from smashing into the wall by strategically placed hold on her torso.

She couldn't see his face as he removed her clothing but it was much gentler than she had expected. With his search complete, he gave Rose one last shamed look before turning back to Rathbourne. "No key, my lord," he said in a mechanical neutral tone, but Rose didn't think she was imagining the small quiver of rage hidden underneath it. The TARDIS hummed in her mind, confirming her suspicions. Whoever this man was, he was different.

He moved to begin redressing her but Rathbourne's cold voice interrupted him. "No...keep her like that. We'll do today's session...hmm...what does my Lady say? Oh yes, au naturel."

Everything was blurred after that, the same questions, the same shocks but this time with no fabric to protect her body from it or from Rathbourne's leering stares. Later, the same gentle hands from before were what woke her, redressing her and carrying her back to her cell. As she opened her eyes, she looked into those same mysterious blue eyes she'd searched before, eyes that reminded her of another pair, so long ago.

"It's you, isn't it?" he whispered softly, looking at her with awe. "Our Hope. It's you."

And with that, he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**We finally see what Mickey and the Doctor have been doing, Mickey gets chance to get a few things off his chest and we find the identity of Rose's new friend. Let the angst begin! **

**Thanks for all the support and reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying this story. My hope is to have it finished in the next week or so and the first chapter of 10's Shades of Blue up by Mid-June. You're all awesome!**

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"Two more days," ranted Mickey to no one in particular and certainly not to the uncharacteristically disheveled Time Lord sitting near him. "Two more days and then we can get out of this shithole of a rubbish planet," he said derisively

They'd been stuck here in the wilderness with the rebel forces for nearly two weeks now. Food was hard to come by, showers were nonexistent and the sleeping mats were uncomfortable. The Doctor had been crucial in strategizing with the leaders and using their limited tech to develop a dampener that would block the effects of the mind-control device long enough for the troops to take back the castle and so he and Mickey were treated with respect but it had been a long two weeks regardless.

Commander Mathis had assured the Doctor that as soon as the kingdom had been taken back and Rathbourne deposed, the Doctor would have full access to all the men and resources he needed to unearth the TARDIS and he could be on his way with his friends and the blessings of the kingdom.

How easy that sounded.

Morale had been quite low around the camp of stragglers and survivors for quite some time. The Doctor's appearance had bolstered them, given new hope to the struggling rebellion but it had fallen again when they discovered it would at least two weeks for the Doctor to gather the pieces and complete the device and to call together the other scattered forces for one final assault on the castle.

The Doctor, for his part, was dirty, lonely and miserable. He missed Rose, he missed his TARDIS and he missed a nice hot shower. The TARDIS was far away but he could feel her presence in the back of his mind as he always could. She had nearly healed from the fall but something else was wrong and he couldn't figure out what it was. Periodically, but at seemingly random times, she would cry out in pain as though she was sick or as though something kept hurting her, repeatedly. And she was angry. Very angry. It made him angry and nervous and frustrated, helpless as he was to get to her at the moment. And it made him afraid. What could possibly hurt a TARDIS like that? She'd been trying to tell him something for days, ever since they'd been separated, but he couldn't get the gist of her message. It was too garbled, too pained. Something was very, very wrong.

Two weeks was a long time. He hoped Rose was keeping Reinette safe. He thought he'd stressed enough to her how important that was, how crucial the woman's safety was to the Timestream but he needed to get to them. As soon as possible. Who knew how long their guise as household staff would hold up? And why hadn't they tried to escape and join him? He was very worried about them but tried to take comfort in the fact that he knew Rose was resourceful and clever. She surely had everything under control.

A sudden commotion rippled through the crowd as a cry came up from the perimeter.

"Commander! The messenger is approaching!" one of the guards yelled. The rest of the troops quickly gathered to greet the small, slight and breathless boy who came barreling into the camp.

Commander Mathis strode into the center of the circle and clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder. Gulping down a breath, the boy stood and offered him a shaky salute. The Doctor frowned at a child so young being forced into a career of espionage and violence. This was NOT the way Time was supposed to go, especially here. In the face of the Doctor's ire at first learning of the child spies, Mathis had unapologetically explained that only the children could pass through the city unaffected by Rathbourne's Thought Modulator.

"To my tent, Messenger," the Commander said, turning briskly. "Food and water for the boy," he barked at one of the nearby guards.

"Yes, sir!" the man answered, taking off toward their meager supplies.

"Doctor, Mr. Smith, Soluna, with me," he said and the Doctor, Mickey and a slim, blonde warrior of a woman (Mathis' second in command) followed him and the boy into a tent.

"Well?" the Commander asked when everyone had settled in.

"Everything is going according to plan, sir," the boy answered. "The Eastern and Western camps will meet us at the ridge at dawn in two days time, just as you requested."

"And news from the palace?" Mathis asked, anxiously. "Does the Prince still live?"

"He does," the boy responded and both Mathis and Soluna breathed out unison sighs of relief.

The Doctor and Mickey had learned from Mathis and Soluna that the Prince and a number of his royal advisors and household were being kept in the dungeons under the castle but Mickey didn't really understand why. "Why is Rathbourne keeping him alive?" Mickey wondered out loud and suddenly the fiery eyes of all three warriors in the room turned on him. Swallowing, Mickey continued, "And if he was going to keep him alive, why not just use the mind control on him and take over the kingdom that way?"

"Rathbourne is an arrogant man. He wants to be seen as the head of the kingdom, not merely its puppet master. He wants all to know that it is he who has managed to bring our kingdom to its knees. And our Prince will acutely feel the suffering of all. Forcing him to watch as his kingdom is tortured and torn asunder is a punishment far worse than outright death or even torture of his own," Soluna responded gravely.

The Doctor understood that. All the people of Bilanisky were powerful empaths. Their empathy was one of the primary reasons it was such a popular tourist destination. Bilanisky royalty came from a line of very strong empaths, the strongest on the planet. That's why it was (supposed) to be such a beautiful and peaceful place. If the people were healthy, happy and flourishing, then so was the kingdom and the ruler. If not…well, he wouldn't be surprised if the Prince had descended into madness already.

"Is there anything else?" Mathis asked of the small boy standing at his feet.

"Umm…yes, sir," the boy said, looking a bit nervous and shifting back and forth on his feet.

"Well, what is it? Spit it out!" he barked. Instead of cringing from the harsh tone, the boy stood up a little straighter and the Doctor was suddenly overwhelmed by an image of long ago, as a brave, curt, mustached General barked a tall, gangly Sergeant into being a better man.

"There are rumors, sir, of a rebellion spreading within the palace," the boy said nervously. Mathis and Soluna looked surprised and the Doctor's ears perked up considerably. "Wilhelm was only able to pass on a small bit of information, but it seems, sir, that someone has been spreading Hope," he finished with a beautific smile of youth.

Both Mathis and Soluna broke into similar smiles. Hope. It was a beautiful thing, especially for an Empath…and especially in a place where there was so little of it to go around these days. The Doctor could feel as the Bilaniskis around the tent picked up on the emotion and as it spread through the camp like a warm wave.

The Doctor's hearts sang with some Hope of his own. Rose. It had to be Rose.

"That is indeed wonderful to hear, son," Mathis said, smiling down at the boy. "You have done well. Eat, sleep and spread the Hope. We will need it," he finished, dismissing the young boy who left with a barely suppressed yawn and a salute.

"Where does your information come from?" the Doctor asked eagerly. His first task upon entering the castle was to destroy the Thought Modulator and to help Mathis take down Rathbourne but he could very quickly find this "Wilhelm" and get information on Reinette and Rose. Although, if he knew Rose, she would probably be right in the thick of things. He tried to decide whether that made him feel infinitely proud or violently worried. "Who is Wilhelm?"

"Wilhelm is my son," Soluna answered. "He is undercover within the ranks of Rathbourne's army and passes information on to us."

"How's he resisting the mind control thingy?" Mickey asked and the Doctor wanted to roll his eyes. Two weeks in only Mickey's company was driving him a bit spare. Mickey didn't laugh at his jokes, didn't smile at him winsomely and didn't, not that he wanted him to, hold his hand. These had also been a particularly unpleasant two weeks because Mickey seemed quite content to be as rude as possible to him or to ignore him completely.

The Doctor was reminded of Mickey's initial animosity to his first body…but they had been getting along better since the regeneration, hadn't they? Clearly he'd done SOMETHING to anger the boy and he had no idea what it was. Well, Mickey could just deal and, if he wanted to go home after this adventure, then so be it. It'd been a bit rubbish letting Mickey come along in the first place but he didn't want to look too closely at his motivations there.

And besides, he didn't need a hand to hold, anyway. He didn't need a twenty two year old human girl to hold his hand and make everything better.

Except, you know, when he did.

Which seemed to be…well, always.

The Doctor pushed those feeling away and turned to Soluna, interested in the answer himself, although he would have phrased the question much more eloquently.

"My husband was not of this world, so my son is only half Bilaniski," Soluna answered. The Doctor tried to hide his surprise. It was very unusual for an Empath, especially one from a powerful race like the Bilaniski, to marry outside their own race. The mental, physical and cultural differences between them were very high and hard to overcome. "And, as you noted, Doctor, Rathborne's confounded machinery does not affect those not of Bilanisky-origin. He still looks Bilanisky and his eyes are naturally blue in color so he became our perfect secret weapon," she finished. The Doctor could hear the pride and the sorrow in her voice and felt it emanate from her as she spoke. Yet another sacrifice of war for this peace-loving society.

"You will see him safe once again," the Doctor said, laying his hand on her arm.

"You cannot know that, Doctor," Soluna answered, quietly. "Even one so powerful as you cannot know that."

He was silent at that. She was right, of course. He couldn't know, couldn't promise the safety of anyone. He couldn't even know if the humans in his care would emerge from this safely.

"Thank you, Doctor, thank you, Mr. Smith," Commander Mathis said after a moment of silence. "If you would take your leave, I have some further details to discuss with Soluna. I would suggest you get some sleep this evening. We have a long trek ahead of us tomorrow and then tomorrow, with your help, we fight to reclaim our kingdom."

Outside the tent, Mickey muttered something to him about sleeping and disappeared. The Doctor took little notice, settling down on a log next to the fire and staring into the flames aimlessly, caught in his own musings and misery. He was surprised forty-seven minutes later when a figure deposited itself on the log next to him. Turning his head slightly, he saw the outline of Soluna staring into the fire as he was.

"Something you wish to talk about, Doctor?" Soluna asked him quietly.

"No, no, nope. Can't think of a thing," he lied through his teeth, running hand to the back of his neck.

"Even from a man who shields as heavily as you, there are emotions are seeping through, Doctor," Soluna answered, not deflected so easily. There was uncertainty and turmoil pouring off him in waves, along with the ripples of sadness, grief and guilt tha;t seemed simply be part of his genetic make-up.

"Yes, well, suppose I'm a bit out of practice," he responded, thinking of the now-gone planet and people who would have kept him in practice, making Soluna cringe as a desperate wave of guilt crashed through him. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"You carry much grief, Time Lord," she responded. "And much loneliness."

An echo of Reinette's recent words danced through his mind and he cringed again, steeling his shields against the newest wave a guilt, this time surrounding the pink and yellow girl he'd been doing his best not to think about (unsuccessfully).

"But not so lonely anymore?" Soluna said tentatively, asking but knowing the answer.

"No," he said softly. "Well, yes. Yes and no. I'm not sure," he finally said, putting his head down in his hands. "I just can't…I can't," he trailed off and neither of them spoke for a few moments.

"My husband was a Dwalinsf," Soluna said, fondly. "Short, dark, brown-eyed, psi-null, short-lived. Everything a Bilaniski is not. He was not perfect and he was no prince. There were others that sought me, others who perhaps thought themselves smarter or better-looking. None, however, outshone my Spesro. I would not trade one single day I spent with him for a thousand years with another. There are few things more beautiful than Hope to us..." she trailed off and a beautiful smile transformed her face, one that shed her warrior mask and made her look years younger. "But Love…Love is the most breathtaking of all. Do not give it up so easily, Time Lord, for it may never come again." Soluna finished and patted him on the shoulder before leaving him to stare into the fire, alone.

The next morning passed in a flurry of packing up the camp and setting off for the hours-long hike to the meeting place. Mickey trudged along next to the Doctor, studiously ignoring any of the Doctor's attempts at conversation. Finally, after a long evening of tactical discussions with Commander Mathis and the leaders of the Eastern and Western camps, he and Mickey found themselves standing alone in a small clearing separate from the rest of the camp.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, Mickey?" the Doctor asked. Mickey was one of the members assigned to the Doctor's team, to assist in the most important task of disabling Rathbourne and his device.

"Yes," Mickey said, determination flaring in his eyes. The Doctor had to admit, Mickey had been changing. He was more poised, more confident...no longer the cowering teenager that had stumbled out of his TARDIS and clung to Rose like a child. Mickey Smith was growing up. "The sooner we get in there and get rid of this bastard, the sooner you can take Rose n'me home. For good," he finished.

The Doctor was rudely torn out of his musing on Mickey's newfound bravery as his impressive Time Lord brain tripped over the last few words of that statement.

"Excuse me?" he asked, going very, very still.

"You heard me," Mickey snapped. "The sooner this is over, the sooner I can go back to the Powell Estate. With Rose," he added, watching the Time Lord's face carefully. When the Doctor was silent, he continued, "See, I thought this was the life I wanted but you ain't the man I thought you was and, for Rose's sake, we're going home."

"You can leave whenever you like, Mickey Smith, but Rose makes her own decisions. Her home is the TARDIS. And she's not going anywhere," the Doctor growled, his hackles raised. Rose was staying. Rose had promised. Forever.

Mickey snorted at him and the Doctor's brain wanted to short out again. Mickey Smith had just snorted at him. _Mickey Smith_ had just _snorted_ at _him_!

"You can think that all you want, mate, but I've been through this before and I know how this story ends. An' if you think it ends with her and you, you don't know anything about Rose," he said, almost casually, his clenched fists the only real sign of his internal fury. Two weeks. Two bloody weeks trapped with this arrogant sod who had stolen his girlfriend and broken his heart only leave her behind for another (more sophisticated? - perhaps, better? - never) woman and break hers. Then he'd sent her off into danger and not even mentioned one single word of worry for her this entire time and Mickey was about to his breaking point.

The Doctor's eyes turned black and almost feral at his challenge and, if Mickey hadn't known he had the upper hand, hadn't known he was doing the best for Rose, he probably would have been terrified. She gave him courage and made him a better man. And this alien wanker didn't deserve her.

"I know everything there is to know about Rose Tyler," the Doctor growled, his possessive side flaring in a way it hadn't since he'd been all anger and leather. There was no way he was letting Mickey bloody Smith challenge him for dominance...especially over Rose. He advanced on Mickey, backing the boy toward a tree. "I know her average body temperature is 36.814 degrees, 37.5 when she's angry. Her resting pulse rate is 70 beats per minute and she spends an average of 94 minutes in REM sleep each night. She can hold her breath underwater for thirty-five seconds and can run at full speed for two kilometers without suffering adverse effects," he continued, pausing to take a breath.

"Oh, that's nice," Mickey mocked, in a very good impression of the man the Doctor used to be. "What was her favorite band in middle school?" The Doctor stopped in his forward press, his mouth open. Mickey, sensing his advantage, took over, prowling forward to meet the Time Lord halfway. "What did she get from her mum for her eleventh birthday? Who was her first crush? Her first kiss?"

He didn't know. Rassilon. He didn't know. Twelve billion languages, unlimited mathematical and scientific genius and eleven-hundred years in Time and Space (all right, so he'd lied to Rose about that) and he was coming undone in the face of knowledge that he didn't possess.

"Those are all rubbish things," he scoffed, desperate to win back some footing. They weren't and he knew it. Mickey Smith knew it. Mickey Smith also knew things he didn't know.

Things about Rose.

He was confused and overwhelmed and jealous and why was Mickey doing this to him? Why was he having this pissing match with Mickey Smith, again?

"No, Doctor," Mickey glowered at him. They were nose to nose now. "They aren't rubbish things at all. They're ihuman/i things."

"Well, there you go. Silly emotional ape stuff," The Doctor said, derisively, seeing his chance and seizing it while his mind reeled. What else didn't he know about Rose? "I know all the important things. Humans focus on the most ridiculous matters."

It looked like Mickey was going to rise to the bait and make this argument about about faulty humans instead of Rose but he just shook his head. Let the Doctor disparage humans all he wanted. Last him had been better at it anyway. Mickey still had his trump card. "Oh yeah? Know all about Jimmy Stone, then do you?" he asked, watching with sad satisfaction as his question fell on a baffled Doctor's head.

The Doctor, who had been prepared to go into an Oncoming babble about his superiority to humans to throw Mickey off was staggered by his question. "What?" he said, weakly.

Mickey, seeing his hesitance, grabbed it and knew grimly that he had won this round. "Since you know all the _important things_," he said, leaning on those words viciously, "you must know all about Jimmy Stone. Unless that's too _human_ for you," he spat.

The Doctor took as step back from Mickey and ran a hand through his hair. Jimmy Stone, Jimmy Stone, Jimmy Stone. The name was familiar...he was sure Rose had mentioned it before.

"Jimmy Stone. Rose's first big love," Mickey said slowly, watching the Time Lord flinch almost imperceptibly at his words. "Big fella...tall, broad-shouldered, close cropped hair - looked a bit like he'd just crawled out of a pub. And had most of the time. Rose met 'im when she was seventeen and he was twenty-five. He was going places, he said. Promised to take her with him. She fell hard. He was possessive...didn't want to share her with nobody. We hardly ever saw her," he shot the Doctor an acid-laced look, silently adding, _Sound familiar?_ to that. "She dropped out of school, he cut her off from her friends and family. Then he started drinking heavy and rumor was, he battered her around a bit but she still wouldn't leave him. He was mean and there were rumors of other women, but Rose stayed. Loyal, Rose is. She stood by the great bloody wanker no matter what he put her through. Including the hospital that last time." At that, a vein in the Time Lord's jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. How dare he...how dare anyone touch his Rose like that.

"I snuck into the hospital to see her then...begged her just to leave him. I heard the doctors...they told Jackie Rose had just stopped fighting. She'd given up. That's why it was so bad, why she almost died. He'd taken all her trust and crushed it. He'd taken all her hope and it almost cost her her life. And that's not Rose. Rose don't ever stop fighting. As long as she still has hope, Rose'll keep fighting."

The Doctor nodded inside. He knew that. He didn't need Mickey to tell him. He'd seen it over and over and over again. Rassilon, he'd sent her away in the face of an entire Dalek army and she'd returned to him. And it hurt him to even think about Rose, his beautiful, precious, fierce Rose like that. Giving up.

"He never came to visit her in the hospital and once she was out, she gave us the slip and went back to see him again. I dunno what she was going to do...give him a slap, knowing Rose. But you know what he'd done?" Mickey asked, sadly with a cold steel in his eyes as he scowled at the Time Lord.

"What?" the Doctor asked, unable to help himself.

"He'd gone and replaced her. She found him fucking some blonde whore in their bed when she got back. And that's what it took. She finally left him after that. Came back home a right mess and me an' Jackie sorted her out. Got her that job at Henrik's, got her settled into a happy routine, kept her mind off Jimmy." The Doctor once again felt a surge of confusing pride in Mickey, glad that he had been such a good friend to Rose when she'd needed him. But why was Mickey so angry and why he telling him this now?

"And then_ he_ came along," Mickey said. "Him and his ship and his leather and his fancy words and he stole her from us again. And we tried to warn her, tried to make her see...but she never listens. Just ran off after the next bloke that wasn't me. Rose kept telling us he was different and slowly, you know what? I didn't want to, but I started to believe her. I watched 'em together, saw how he looked at her...and I started to believe her. Started to believe in him. Don't get me wrong...I hated his Leather-coated guts most days but I didn't think he'd hurt her."

The Doctor staggered back to sit on a log, thinking he might know where all of this was headed. "I didn't - I wouldn't have..."

"No," Mickey said softly. "I don't think he would have. But then you," he said, his glare turning icy as he looked down at the Time Lord. "You came along."

"We're the same man!" he protested, looking up at Mickey.

"No, I don't think you are," Mickey said and it was the complete and utter conviction in his voice that got the Doctor more than the words themselves. "Because his sun and moon came up on Rose. Because he never would have left her alone in an elevator to get possessed by a mad flap of skin. He never would have been separated long enough for her to get almost eaten by a werewolf. He wouldn't have rubbed Sarah Jane in her nose."

"How do you know about all of that?" the Doctor asked weakly, avoiding the bile rising in his throat at the terrifying truth in Mickey's words.

"Rose talks to me, you idiot. We may have broken up but she's still my best friend. Did you think all those calls on her superphone were to Jackie?" Mickey retorted. "And you don't know what love is until you're playing relationship coach to the girl you've loved since you were six and the alien wanker who stole her from you. And you know what? That was fine. I was fine. She was happy and that's all I wanted. For her to be happy. Didn't think I'd ever be able to get her back and then you went and did the one thing, the one thing, that could make it possible."

The Doctor was torn in equal parts between dread and jealousy and anger. "And what, exactly, is it that you've presumed I've done, Mickey Smith?" he asked, raising his blazing eyes to meet the human's.

To his great consternation, Mickey snorted at him again. "Like you don't know. 'He isn't like that' my arse. Reinette," he spit the name out like it was the worst tasting poison in the universe, "informed me and Rose in great, intimate detail of all the ways that you most certainly are 'like that'," Mickey, on a roll now, missed the look of surprised horror quickly followed by disgust and anger that crossed the Time Lord's face. "You left us behind to crash through a window like a fucking knight in shining armor, you replaced her with a French whore and now you've lost her. Admit it, you prat. You didn't even know the name of the bloody spaceship. If it hadn't been for that fluke of a window, you never woulda found us. Rose had convinced herself that you didn't do any of that and if you did, you'd eventually be doing it with her. But Reinette told us all about the things that you do. And I've gotta tell you, Doc, always knew it was French...but gee, somewhere back in 2005, there's a nineteen-year old me thanking you immensely from the front seat of Jackie's sedan with Rose's mouth on my -"

The Doctor moved so quickly, Mickey didn't even see it coming. Once second he was standing in the middle of a clearing looking down on a beaten alien and the next he was pressed up against a very unyielding tree-trunk with a ferocious hand against his throat. The Doctor's eyes were blazing black fury and Mickey felt, for the very first time, completely and utterly afraid of him. Oncoming Storm, indeed. "Never. Ever. Speak of my Rose that way again," he snarled. "Am I understood?" Mickey managed a small jerk of his head and the Doctor let go of him, causing him to slide to the ground with a squelched gasp.

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the clearing and everything in the universe suddenly focused on the Doctor and Mickey. Mickey trembled under the Doctor's gaze but still met his eyes, which shone an odd color...like the dark blue of Time's Champion was shining through the brown of its Destroyer. "Listen to me very, very carefully, Mickey Smith," he boomed, his voice echoing oddly with centuries of contained power. "I did not have sex with Reinette Poisson. I would never hurt Rose and I will always, always come back for her. You will never have her and she will never leave me."

"How do you know?" Mickey asked softly from the ground, looking up into those terrifying eyes.

"Because I need her. I have to have her. She's...I... I...I love her," the Doctor answered, the blaze and the power and the centuries suddenly falling away to suddenly reveal a lonely, skinny, terrified man in a rumpled suit and dirty trainers. He extended a hand to Mickey and pulled the other man to his feet. "Do you..." he started and then stopped, swallowing painfully. "Do you really think I've lost her?" he asked so softly Mickey would have almost sworn he'd imagined it, were it not for the hearts-broken, wide eyes looking at him through the gloom.

"I don't know," Mickey answered honestly. He took a deep breath. "But what I do know is that you should be telling Rose all of this. Not me."

"I..." the Doctor started and then stopped. He'd avoided it for so long...afraid of what it might mean to take that next step with Rose, to let himself love her completely. He'd been afraid of losing himself in her, that, if he let himself be fully with her, the inevitable loss of her might cripple him beyond salvation but he realized in that moment of clarity with Mickey Smith that without her, he was already beyond salvation. "I will."

Mickey watched carefully as the resolve settled in the Time Lord's face. He watched as Rose's future built itself in the firm hold of the Doctor's shoulders, in the new resolve of his expression. He watched and he let go. He loved Rose and he probably always would but it was time for him to move on.

It was just her and him. Rose and the Doctor.

She didn't need him anymore.

"Well, then, go tell her!" Mickey said, unable to resist one last jab at the Time Lord. "Oh, wait. You can't. Because you sent her off straight into the jaws of the enemy with that vindictive, manipulative bitch."

The Doctor whipped his head up to stare at Mickey, both of them realizing in the same moment exactly what Mickey had said.

"We need to go. Now," the Doctor said, the scared man falling away to reveal the Oncoming Storm once more.

Nothing was going to stand in the way of a Time Lord and his love.

Not even himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Rose shifted against the bars, resting her elbow and then her forehead against the one she had most recently been filing. She was so tired. And she was worried about the Doctor and Mickey. Unsure of exactly how much time had passed, Rose couldn't know for sure, but she could only think of one time when she thought they had been separated this long before.

They'd been on another planet on the cusp of a civil war and the Doctor had needed a part he said could only be obtained there. He'd meant to land them forty years in the future during a time of unrivalled peace but, as usually happened with them, he'd missed. A bit. He tried to mask his concern but they desperately needed...whatever it was they had come for...so he'd set out to get it.

The Doctor had ordered her to stay in the TARDIS and to, under no circumstance, leave for any reason. He'd even left Jack there with her and threatened to find a way to send the TARDIS into the vortex if she didn't swear to him that she wouldn't leave.

After four day/night cycles on the TARDIS without his return, Jack had set out after him. The Captain made her swear the same things the Doctor had and then he'd kissed her full on the mouth, laughing and sauntering toward the doors of the TARDIS telling her the kiss was something for her to dream about while he was gone. Rose had grabbed him before he made it out and reminded him that it was going to turn into a nightmare for him if she told the Doctor when he got back. Jack had just laughed merrily and said he'd just invite the Doctor in.

When several hours passed and Jack didn't return, Rose had had enough. She packed her bag with a few supplies and strode purposefully to the TARDIS doors, intent on rescuing both of their silly arses, only to find...the Doctor had managed to make the TARDIS lock her in. She banged on the doors, pleaded, cajoled and ranted but nothing could convince the Timeship to let her out. In retaliation, with a tear-soaked face, Rose camped herself out in the console room. She wouldn't have eaten or slept, nearly sick from worry, except that the TARDIS was rather insistent. Finally, after several days (she lost count in her frantic haze), the door to the console room had banged open and in swept a dirty, scruffy, tired-looking Time Lord and an equally disheveled Captain. Without a single word, the Doctor had strode up the ramp to where she was and grabbed her closely in a fierce embrace. She'd felt the desperate tattoo of his rapidly beating hearts against her and felt the raspy stubble of his unshaven face against her cheek and neck as he whispered frantic, jangling alien words against her skin. And then he'd just as abruptly let go and stormed off into the bowels of the Ship, emerging an hour later freshly showered, clothed and shaved and babbling about taking her to Japan.

Lost in her memories, Rose started as a large hand came in contact with hers, easing the file from her fingers. She blinked and then smiled up (and up and up) at Albeorn's enormous form looming over her. He helped her ease down to sit with her back against the bars and took over filing, his presence large and warm beside her. Eventually, he came to sit down beside her and the two of them silently watched Waltha and the prince in the corner. Waltha was sitting on the edge of the bed holding the man's hand, her eyes closed and her brow furrowed in concentration. She'd explained to Rose one night that she was helping to focus his emotions, pushing out the negative ones and replacing them with the growing hope of the Biliniskis around them. Each cell surrounding them, filled with the previously forlorn Empaths, now had bright-eyed, if a bit battered, men and women readying to fight to take their planet back.

Rose and Albeorn sat together silently watching the pair across the cell. "What's it like?" Rose asked quietly, her eyes still locked on the prince and his caretaker. Several of the other Bilaniskis around them, including Amicus, were also sitting very still and murmuring the same words as Waltha to help her. She heard Albeorn shift beside her slightly and moved her eyes up to meet his. His head was inclined gently to the side in a way Rose had come to understand was permission to continue her question. "Being an Empath, I mean," she clarified. "Sharing all those feelings."

To her surprise, his large, luminous eyes flashed with something like hurt and something else entirely like longing before he snapped his head forward and stared down at his hands.

After a long moment, his shoulders rose and fell incrementally in an approximation of a shrug. Staring straight ahead again, he shook his head once and then went back to remaining perfectly still.

Understanding flooded through Rose and she inhaled sharply when she realized what he meant. He was the prince's Protector. He had to be able to hurt someone to keep his prince from harm which meant...he couldn't be Empathetic himself. No wonder he didn't speak.

"I'm sorry," Rose said, quietly and, across the room, the prince stirred as the sincerity of her concern radiated through the dungeon. "That must be very difficult for you."

Albeorn moved to look at her once again, his eyes shining at her in gratitude and he nodded once in acceptance, when Rose spoke again, "Humans aren't Empathetic, at least not in the way your people are, but we still share and support each other. Usually like this," she finished, reaching out and entwining her fingers with hers. They sat there awhile, silent and unmoving, a small, battered pixy and an enormous, lonely giant just sharing in one small moment of peace and connection in what had become a cruel world.

Suddenly, above them, the sound of scuffling broke out. Rose struggled to her feet, assisted by Albeorn, who immediately moved to his place beside the prince but watched her with concerned eyes. They could hear muffled shouting and the sound of explosions high above and Rose's heart surged with hope. It was time! The Doctor was here! He would save her, he would save all of these people!

And then she'd slap him.

But first, he was here!

At that moment, a wild-eyed Rathbourne came into view at the top of the stairs to the dungeon. "Bring me the girl!" he screamed and four red-coated men sprung forward to drag her out. Both Amicus and Albeorn moved forward against their bars, Amicus shouting for her but Rose was already out of sight.

Everything around her was chaos, loud explosions and shouting men, when Rathbourne turned and took her by the shoulders, shaking her. "He's taken her! He's taken her!" he shouted, before backhanding her across the mouth. Rose tasted iron and oh, her shoulder should not be shaken like that. But it didn't matter. The Doctor was here, the Doctor would save her...

And then, everything went silent. People still moved around her, still shook her, still shouted, but it was as if the world around her was moving in slow motion, as if someone had turned the universe on mute. Rose fell to her knees of her own accord and swung her head wildly to the side, not seeing the chaos around her.

Because the silence wasn't around her. It was in her head.

The TARDIS.

The TARDIS was gone.

* * *

_Several hours earlier_

"What is the matter, my lord? You seem...distracted," Reinette purred, coming up behind Rathbourne and winding her arms around him.

He made a frustrated noise and stepped from her grip but she followed him. "You can tell me," she tried again, this time wending her arms a bit lower.

"It's the girl," he growled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Reinette fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was it with men being fixated on the chav? "What about her, my lord?" she asked, sweetness back in her voice and innocent curiosity replacing the scorn in her eyes as he turned back to her.

"I cannot break her. I have take this entire planet, turned its people useless, crippled its prince and yet that stupid, simple girl defies me!" he roared, picking up a nearby chair and tossing it across the room.

Reinette regarded him coolly a moment. "Perhaps, my liege, you have simply not been using the correct things against her," she said. "Every woman has a breaking point and something that will push her over it...you simply must find the correct impetus."

He turned slowly to face her, dropping the lamp he had been going to toss. "And I suppose you, my devious little minx, you know what hers will be?" he purred, his voice dropping seductively, moving to pull Reinette against him.

"The Time Lord, my liege," she responded. "And..." she paused, waiting for him to pull his head off her neck to look her in the eye.

"And?" he asked.

"Me," she finished with an evil smile, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

Later, as she walked her long fingers across his bare torso, he spoke up once again. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Convince her she means nothing to him. You must make her believe he has come and left again, saving only me," she replied. Oh, this was working out far better than she'd ever planned.

"How? Her blind faith in him is complete. She would not believe my words."

"Then we must find some other way to make her believe," Reinette replied. "Did you not say that the box communicates with minds somehow?" she asked.

"Legend states that the TARDIS communicated telepathically with their pilot and crew members, yes," Rathbourne replied. And there had been a spike of untraceable telepathic energy picked up by his Thought Modulator when the TARDIS had been brought to the palace.

"She has been onboard much longer than I and I have seen her stroking the walls. Surely the girl communicates with the machine," Reinette deduced. "Make her believe the box is gone...the Time Lord with it."

"What of the other man?" Rathbourne asked, his eyes lighting up. Blocking the telepathic signal would be easy and there were several of his more irritating servants he wouldn't mind 'losing' in a simulated battle with a nonexistent threat.

Reinette gave an arrogant sigh and studied her nails. "The dark boy follows her like a pup. She would never believe he would leave her...tell her he is dead."

"You are brilliant," Rathbourne said, leaning down and kissing her fiercely again. "I shall go make it happen now."

"I'll be behind the observation glass watching," Reinette said, stretching and leaning back against the copious pillows of his bed.

* * *

Rose raised weary eyes to meet the black pits of her tormentor. Everything hurt. Her ribs and chest hurt, her head and back hurt, her arm and collarbone hurt. Her world had been this haze of pain for days and days and now Mickey was dead and even the TARDIS was gone. Her comforting song, her gentle presence, her healing touch...all gone. And there was only one way that could have happened. She didn't think the TARDIS would have let him leave her but he'd forced them here, hadn't he? Forced Her into a landing sequence against Her will. She just had to face it. He had left her. Taken That Woman and left her. Had he thought she was dead? Hadn't he promised her mother he'd bring her home? Had he given up on her? Forgotten her?

She couldn't run, couldn't escape, couldn't get away from this cesspit of a planet with its pain and its suffering. She was battered and broken and it _hurt_. What more did she have to fight for?

"Your precious Doctor is gone, taken my golden angel and fled. Is he coming back for you?" Rathborne asked, malicious joy lighting every single one of his words, wielded like knives into her soul. He could practically taste his victory. And it was delicious.

Her eyes battered closed before she forced them to open once more. "No," Rose answered softly, so softly, the words pulled from her very soul.

Rathborne's eyes danced with glee as the monitor in front of him lit green. He had sworn that he would break her, this wild, willful woman who had defied him. One more...one more question and he would crush her.

"And what do mean to him?" he queried, using Reinette's words, knowing they would finish off the girl, allowing his eyes to dart momentarily to the one-sided glass wall where he knew the courtesan was watching his victory.

Rose stared unseeing in front of her: not seeing Rathborne or the monitors or the white, white room any longer. Instead, her pained and tortured mind saw closed elevator doors, damp cells and broken mirrors. She pictured turned backs, cold shoulders and hands grasped with fingers that weren't hers. She'd overstayed her welcome. He had been trying to tell her for months. He had moved on. She was...

"Nothing," came the reply and then Rose closed her eyes and sank into blissful blackness.

In their cells deep below the white room, the Bilanskis all cried out in horror as the brave incendiary of their raging Hope-fire blinked out. In a small, tattered bed in the corner of a shared cell, a long-unconscious man suddenly sat up and, feeling his people and planet cry out with more despair than had ever been felt before, Prince Fortis of Bilanisky awoke.

"Rose," he breathed, staggering to his feet to grasp the bars at the edge of his cell in tandem with Waltha and Albeorn.

Every Bilanski, poised for action at their prince's command, moved to mirror his position against the bars of their cells as the dreaded sound of Muro's heavy footsteps echoed down the stone staircase followed by what could only be a body.

Fortis' fists clenched around the bars and he looked to his right to see Albeorn mimicking his position as Muro finally came into view pulling Rose's inert body by what they both knew was her bad arm. Rose did not seem to be responding in any way. Fortis and the others could feel the deep waves of hopelessness and defeat radiating from her, not to mention the diminishing signs of biological life. Their brave Wolf, source of their hope, source of their resistance, had given up.

"Look at your precious saviour now!" Muro leered, circling Rose and landing a well-placed, heavy kick to her ribs, which made a sickening snapping sound. She made no noise or movement. "Not so tough now, is she?" he snarled, lashing out again with a blow that connected with yet another nauseating crunch in the same spot. "Give up, you worthless, simpering fools. You'll never win. And now, I think it's time for my reward," he finished, his eyes taking on a crazed light. To the horror of every Bilaniski in the dungeon, his filthy hands went to the clasp on his trousers and he used his foot to kick Rose over onto her back.

An outraged cry went up from them all, helplessly rattling and shaking their bars. They couldn't get to her. This precious girl who had given them back their lives needed someone, anyone and none of them could get to her. Then, a voice, which none of them had ever heard before, rang out loud over the top of the din.

"No," it stated, calmly but fiercely, in a tone that left nothing to question.

Every eye, including Muro's turned to face the large, strong, previously-silent man who had spoken it.

"The great giant speaks!" cackled Muro, dancing closer to his bars, his trousers now undone. "But it doesn't mean anything. You can't stop me! Do you know what I'm going to do,_ Protector_?" he spat out that last word mockingly. "I'm going to fuck her. I'm going to hurt her. Then I'm going to kill her. Right in front of you. And there's nothing you can do about it. What do you have to say to that, big man?" he mocked, laughing cruelly.

"No," repeated Albeorn, his voice the same eerie calm it had been before. Then, before anyone, especially Muro, had even registered his movement, the huge man grasped the bars he'd watched Rose so carefully file the past few weeks and pulled them apart like toothpicks. Muro just had time to switch his expression from mocking cruelty to desperate fear before a pair of large, sure hands snapped his neck just as easily as they had the bars.

"No," he said once more, dropping the man's body to the side before bending down to Rose's unmoving form.

Waltha and Fortis tentatively stepped from the cell and all eyes were on the pair in the center of the room, on the small, broken body in the arms of their Prince's Protector. They could all sense the faint flickering of life in her, barely there at all. One small gust and she would be gone. Waltha removed Muro's keys from his belt and quickly began to unlock the cells of the other prisoners, who gathered around the Prince in the center of the room, standing on the spot where they had so often been beaten down by the dead man at his feet.

"Today we rise up to take back our kingdom," Fortis said, quietly, his voice infused with strength and barely restrained fury. His emotions surged through the gathered crowd, who murmured in agreement. "Rathbourne's grasp on our people has grown tenuous. Thanks to her," he nodded to Rose, still and pale in Albeorn's arms. "So today, we fight. For Hope!" he yelled and they responded, repeating his words. "For the future!"

"For Rose," came the deep unfamiliar voice none of them had ever expected to hear in the first place, carefully cradling the human's delicate form in his arms.

"For Rose!" the crowd echoed, surging forward up the steps of the dungeon just as, just a few floors above them, all hell broke loose of its own accord.

Or well, of the Doctor's accord, anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**A warning: Implied bad, bad things here. But! Not everything is as it seems and the TARDIS is far smarter than anyone else. Including me. And she's not about to let her Wolf go. Trust me. I won't let you down.**

* * *

Mickey and the Doctor ran through the hollowed-out remnants of the city, surrounded on all sides by grim-looking rebels. The Doctor's blocking device, deep in the contents of his coat pockets, was serving its purpose as not a single figure turned from them to Rathbourne's control. However, the Doctor could feel the Empaths' pain as they neared the castle and the multitude of their comrades who were cut off still. He wouldn't be able to break the control over those inside until they reached the castle and the Modulator inside.

The Doctor, for his part, was getting frantic. He could feel the TARDIS in his head and she was screaming, angry and terrified. And he was starting to suspect why. He sent out a query to her and, at the same time, searched for Rose's mental signature in the haze of the Empathetic emotions surrounding them. He thought for a second he had found her, the strong, brilliant gold of her presence shouting Hope all around. And then, suddenly...there was nothing.

The Time Lord stumbled in the street and Mickey just managed to catch him before he hit the ground. The progress around them screeched to a halt and the Doctor staggered over to a wall, assisted by his human companion. Hands on either side of his head, the Doctor tried to regain his equilibrium and avoid the incredible well of panic surging through him.

"What is it?" Mickey asked, frightened by the alien's pallor. "What's wrong?"

"The TARDIS," the Doctor gritted out. The TARDIS , his one single constant companion since the horror of the Time War, the one who had helped to fill the terrifying silence left in his mind since Gallifrey had burned was gone, blocked somehow. Her sudden absence, as well as the absence of the bright, shining beacon that was Rose, hurt him more in that moment than he could have ever imagined. It was like the fall of Arcardia, the final breath of Gallifrey, the Moment all over again. He couldn't do this. He couldn't... "He's blocking the TARDIS," the Doctor gasped, wanting to throw Mickey's hands off him but unable to do so.

"What do you mean, blocking her? Like we won't be able to leave?" Mickey countered, panicking slightly. They couldn't be stuck here.

"No," the Doctor snapped. "He's blocking the telepathic signal. I can't hear Her in my head. I can't find Her," he said desperately. And then added softly, "Her or Rose."

"You can find Rose with your brain?" Mickey asked, furrowing his brow incredulously.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened, waving off Mickey's concern again. "C'mon, let's go," he replied, ignoring Mickey's question. "I'm fine. We've got work to do."

They set off once again with the Bilaniskis through the streets and had almost reached the castle when a series of explosions echoed from the castle. "The prince!" Mathis breathed at the same time Soluna whispered, "Wilhelm." Evidently, some sort of battle had already begun in the palace, which was probably lucky for them as they met no resistance in the courtyard of the castle, all the guards seemingly distracted by chaos inside. The Doctor didn't know whether to hope Rose was at the center of the confusion or not.

He was beginning to think 'or not'.

Ignoring the pounding in his head from his lack of communication with the TARDIS, he listened as Mathis gave the final set of instructions. There was a team of rebels set to go to the dungeon to free and protect the Prince and any down there that had survived still. There as a team set to roam the halls and incapacitate (not kill) their controlled comrades and there was a team to go with the Doctor and Mickey to disable Rathbourne's device and the man himself.

Mathis had just given his final command when a horrific wave of despair swept through the castle, knocking nearly all the Bilaniskis surrounding the Doctor and Mickey to their knees. Even the Doctor, who was not an Empath, couldn't avoid the torrent of anguish and sorrow that washed over them. The Hope that had been fueling the Empaths, growing steadily stronger as they had neared the castle, suddenly blinked out and the Doctor felt a lurch in his stomach. He needed to concentrate. He couldn't contemplate what that loss of Hope might mean.

"Allons-y," he said, grimly, pulling the Commander to his feet. "We have work to do." As the other teams set off through the castle, the Doctor could hear the chaos of battle beginning around them, shouts and shots and explosions. He put his head down and kept running.

The Doctor and his team set off through the corridors, led by a former royal advisor to the castle's main chamber. The doors were, of course, locked but they were no match for the sonic screwdriver and exploded as soon as the Doctor's hand rose.

In the haze and miasm of battle that suddenly surrounded them, it seemed as though Time slowed around them. As they entered, the Doctor noted the surprised, troubled and fearful look that crossed the face of the small, greasy man sitting proudly and wrongly on the throne, next to him, the woman who would very soon become the biggest regret of the Doctor's thousand-plus years, and watched her expression slide from surprise to calculated, fictional fear.

And he felt anger.

He watched as Mickey Smith, no longer the Tin Dog, but a man, a good and true man, fought his way past guard after guard, protecting the device the Doctor had entrusted to him.

And he felt pride.

He saw his TARDIS, charred and blackened from attempts to open Her, standing stolen in the center of the room.

And he felt rage.

He watched Bilanisky stand against Bilanisky, some falling, some rising, some living, and some dying.

And he felt regret.

And then he stood by Mickey Smith and destroyed Rathbourne's Thought Modulator and men and women came surging through the doors, newly freed redcoats and rebels alike, pinning down the man who had taken their kingdom and the woman who had stood by his side, tying them up to await the judgement of their Prince.

And he should have felt triumph.

But, in the end, it was as though the Doctor had seen none of this, for when the controller was broken, so too was the telepathic block. The TARDIS' cry surged back into his mind, an anguished lament, more pained and more broken than she had ever been and his hearts grew cold. Her song was no longer a golden melody, weaving hope and comfort through his mind, but was instead a dark requiem of loss and sorrow.

It was then he was struck, not by what he could feel but instead by what he could not.

He could not feel Rose.

* * *

Mickey Smith thought he'd seen some terrifying things in his life, especially since a certain blue box had started making regular appearances therein.

He's been eaten by a rubbish bin and been kidnapped by a pile of sentient goo.

He's battled slimy green creatures in fatsuits and hacked in the government's defense system to launch a missile at Downing Street and the girl he loved.

He's run from creepy santas, he's confronted blood-controlling bone-head monsters, exploded bat-men that sounded like that old dude from Buffy and almost been sawed in half by clockwork droids on a spaceship thousands of years in his own future.

He's never seen anything more frightening than the creature in front of him now.

He's never seen anything more frightening than the Doctor.

It's funny, really. In all the time he's known the Doctor, despite all the times the alien's mentioned it, the implications of the title "Time Lord" never occurred to him to mean anything outside a fancy ship and an annoyingly over-developed sense of supremacy. In fact, it was easy to forget, as the man pouted and postured, sulking at Jackie, sniping at Mickey and showing off for Rose, that he wasn't human.

There was no question now. After he and the Doctor, side by side, had broken the device, he'd watched the Time Lord's eyes slam shut. There was a jolt of his tall, lanky body, as if he'd been electrocuted and then a flicker beneath his eyelids toward the TARDIS and a relaxation of the tense hold of his body Mickey hadn't even realized was there. But the Doctor's relief had been short lived. Mickey watched then as the Doctor's expressive eyebrows drew down into a frown of concentration and then as he stumbled forward, gripping the edge of the busted machinery in front of them until his knuckles were white. The frown turned to panic and then desperation and Mickey thought he heard a strangled sound escape the man...a gasp that sounded a lot like 'Rose'.

Then his eyes slammed open but they were not the soft brown Mickey had seen before, gazing adoringly at Rose or even the grim umber that had banished Harriet Jones with six words. They were not even the remembered bright blue that could at the same time show startling resolve and vast vulnerability in a single glance.

They were black. Completely and utterly black.

Then it was like the world tipped sideways a second and Time panicked, sliding backwards and forwards, convulsing and coalescing and suddenly the Doctor was no longer beside him but standing alone in front of the bound terrorist and the blonde courtesan, every Bilanisky scattered back at least ten meters and most of them retreating more.

How the hell had he done that?

Standing over the incapacitated man, the Doctor radiated power and anger. "Where is she?" he growled, his voice low and demanding and once again, there was nothing in it that Mickey recognized of the man he knew. This man was something else entirely..something ethereal and something deadly.

The man at his feet sputtered in fear and tried to scuttle away, his bound hands and feet not allowing him far and then the room blinked again and the pathetic figure was slammed up against the wall with a sickening crunch and with the Doctor's hand on his throat. Mickey realized then that the Doctor wouldn't actually have hurt him in that clearing earlier...not if this is what actually hurting someone looked like from him.

"I asked you a question," the Doctor said. "Where is she?" The man in his grasp gurgled a moment and then his eyes darted down to where Reinette was sitting, bound in a similar way and looking terrified.

The Doctor let out a hollow bark that must have been supposed to be laughter and Mickey watched as every Bilanisky in the room shuddered. "Not her. Rose. My Rose." Rathbourne merely made another terrified noise at him and the Doctor let him go suddenly, dropping him onto the ground with a heavy thud. His eyes transferred away in disgust from the man and over to Reinette who flinched under his gaze.

Taking a deep breath, she seemed to gather all of her courage for one last great act. "Oh, my angel! He tricked me! I didn't know -"

"You will not lie to me, Jeanne Antoinette Poisson," he thundered and she too scuttled back until her back was to the wall. The Doctor advanced on her slowly, like a great cat approaching its cornered prey, her eyes widening in fear. "You know. You know what happened. You made it happen. And you will tell me."

Reinette, like the man, just made a terrified squeak and the Doctor moved quickly so he was crouched in front of her. She recoiled, trying to get further from his dark, cold gaze and his snarling power. "Fine. Have it your way," he snapped and reached out, placing his hands firmly on either side of her temples.

She screamed. It was nothing like the first time he had entered her mind, the first time that had gotten him into this trouble in the first place. He was not gentle, he was not careful. He sought what he wanted and he took it with no remorse.

He saw Rose, resigned and weary, roaming the halls in her leather armor, coming up with a plan.

Rose, surprised and betrayed.

Rose, bloodied and bruised.

Rose, stripped and searched.

Rose, fierce and fighting.

And then...

_"Is he coming back for you?"_

_"No."_

_…_

_"Nothing."_

Oh, Rose.

He let go of Reinette and stumbled back from her, letting the now-unconscious woman slide to the ground. He closed his eyes a moment and a single tear slid down his cheek before his attention turned back to Rathbourne, who cowered once again.

"You," he said, his laser gaze burning holes in the man's soul. "You took this planet and turned everything that is wonderful, everything that is brilliant, everything that is fantastic about it and turned it against them. You took their love and pride and turned it to grief and fear. You used what makes them unique and wonderful to cripple them. A beautiful gift turned into a horrendous curse." The Bilaniskis in the room shifted around them, murmuring slightly in agreement but the Doctor didn't seem to notice or care. "But your species isn't so far removed from theirs, did you know that?" he asked, almost casually, taking out his screwdriver and twirling it a moment, his cavalier gesture making him seem that much more terrifying. Rathbourne's eyes traced from the Time Lord's stormy stare to his screwdriver in fear. "Empathetic neural pathways are present but inactive in the frontal lobe of most bipedal, sentient species of this time period. Including yours. Of course, improperly activated in an underdeveloped cranial system they can cause major damage, collapse of the brain, internal hemorrhaging - very painful. But, might be good for you, yeah? To feel what you've done? It's still there, you know. This planet's atmosphere holds and resonates emotions for far longer than most. It's still all there. All of it. The pain you've caused. The chaos and destruction. The loss," he murmured, his voice almost breaking on the last word. His screwdriver came up slowly and, once more, time convulsed and then Rathbourne screamed.

The planet, the TARDIS and the Doctor fed him everything. The hurts and sorrows of this broken planet and its people over the past few horrendous months, amplified a thousand fold, all streaming unflinchingly into his unprotected mind. The Bilaniskis around them recoiled. Even though the emotions simply flowed around them, they could feel it surging through Rathbourne, his body twitching on the ground. The Doctor had cut him off so they did not have to feel his pain, but they were an underlyingly peaceful people and they could see his pain and terror.

The door to the throne room banged open once more and a deep voice boomed, "Doctor, stop." The people of Bilanisky turned and watched closely, overjoyed to see their Prince once again as he swept through the room. The screwdriver flickered and Rathbourne's screams stopped, replaced by a litany of incoherent whimpers.

Doctor slowly turned his head and took in the newcomers. Mathis was there, Soluna as well, just behind the Prince, along with a motley group of beaten and starved-looking prisoners. But there, just behind the one who had spoken, cradled in the arms of an enormous man, was a single, broken and still body.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Rathbourne sobbed at his feet and a flicker of remorse, true remorse, shone through his fear. He had seen what he had done, he had felt it and he was truly sorry. But the Doctor had eyes only for the unmoving blonde silhouette still so far from him, in the arms of another man.

"Too late," the Doctor whispered, screwdriver flashing, and with one last landslide of pain and anguish, the torturer of Bilanisky went out with one last scream.

The room around them was completely silent in the wake of Rathbourne's death as the Doctor strode forward to meet the newcomers. His eyes never left Rose's body, clutched tenderly in the arms of one of the largest humaniods Mickey had ever seen. The Doctor walked right past the Prince, not even giving the royal a second glance, and up to the man holding Rose.

"Give her to me," he commanded, not even bothering to look the man in the eye. It didn't matter who he was. All that mattered was Rose.

The great giant didn't speak, merely shifted the girl gently in his arms but made no effort to hand her over. "I will not say it again, Apath," the Doctor snarled, drawing his screwdriver again, and the Bilaniskis around them gasped at the cruel name for the non-empathetic Bilanisky. Albeorn, however, simply regarded him with sad eyes.

"Put your weapon down, Time Lord," Fortis said, gently, coming up beside the Time Lord. "You will not hurt him, I know this."

"How do you know? You have no idea what I'm capable of, what I've done," the Doctor replied, his gaze never leaving Rose. "I would let this planet burn for her. I would let a thousand planets burn for her." _And yet it wasn't enough,_ a voice in the back of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Koschei taunted. _She's still gone._

"You will not hurt him," Fortis paused, his heart aching for the broken man. "because she would not want you to."

"She's gone," he whispered and the blackness in his eyes broke, replaced by sorrow-filled brown. She was gone. Rose was gone.

"I know, my friend," the Prince answered, reaching out and closing his eyes as the Time Lord's grief swept over him and through the crowd. The people of this planet, war-torn and ragged as they were, closed their eyes and mourned with him, thousands Empaths the world over, all mourning the loss of one small human who had bought them their freedom at the cost of her own life.

It was only then Albeorn bent down and gently transferred Rose to the Time Lord's arms, brushing back a lock of her hair before he let her go. There were tears in his eyes as well...he didn't need Empathy to share in the man's grief. It was his own as well. "Goodbye," he whispered, softly. Six words, just six. They were all he had ever spoken and all he would ever speak. They had been all he ever needed.

Without another sound, the Doctor turned on his heel and walked back to the TARDIS, the Bilaniski people parting reverently as he passed, carrying the girl. Mickey, dragging the unconscious courtesan non-too-gently by her bindings, followed closely, tears leaving streaky trails across his cheeks. Without a look back, he closed the door to this world and all the heartbreak it had brought them.

The Bilanisky people watched as the mysterious blue box faded from view, carrying with it all three of their saviours: the boy who had grown, the girl who had hoped and the man who had just lost it all.


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor laid Rose's body very carefully on the pilot's bench and then immediately turned away to yank them into the Vortex. Some distant part of his brain noted that Mickey had dragged the courtesan in the door and left her unconscious by the ramp but he didn't care. He stood, shaking, by the console, unable to look, unable to turn around and see Rose behind him...the unnatural cant of her mangled shoulder, the crimson spackling of blood on her jacket, the uncanny stillness of a girl who had always been moving they were all warring to erode the slim hold he was keeping on his sanity. If he didn't look at her, maybe he could imagine it was all just a horrendous nightmare. But he couldn't. His hands were stained with blood from holding her and the acrid, iron smell of it was permeating everything, making it impossible for him to think or breathe.

Rose.

Rose was gone.

Mickey jerkily moved forward, still in shock. "Ain't you going to do something?" he asked. "Take her to the Medbay. Fix her," he said, desperately, reaching out to touch her.

"She's dead, Mickey. There is nothing left to fix," the Doctor replied, his voice an odd monotone. "We were too late. I was too late."

Gone.

She was gone.

Both men were silent then, not knowing how to continue, one of them staring at the unmoving girl and the other steadfastly ignoring her. Shaking hands flew automatically around the console and then the TARDIS stopped moving, setting down much more gently than Her usual landings, still caught in Her own grief.

"Where're we?" Mickey managed, watching the Doctor's clipped, careful movements in a haze of uncertainty. His best friend, his best girl...she was gone. He had always known that the Doctor's life was dangerous...how many times had Rose told him of close shaves and ridiculous situations but he'd never truly imagined that one day Rose might not come home.

"Baggage drop," the Doctor muttered, moving to the grating where Reinette still hadn't moved. A flick of the sonic released her from her bonds and another stoically and detachedly repaired the surface bruising of her skin the Bilaniskis had inflicted during her capture.

The Time Lord picked up the woman none too gently and strode out the door, dumping her unceremoniously onto the luxurious bed she had unsuccessfully tried to seduce him into the night he had been stuck here, before she had shown him the fireplace. His hands went to her temples and he murmured under his breath for a moment and, as his disgust for her ratcheted up another level, remembering both that night and all the other things he had seen in her memories, he forced himself to quickly walk back to the TARDIS before he did something the Timelines would not allow.

His behaviour, however, had finally snapped Mickey Smith from his stupor and, as soon as the Doctor entered the console room, he was met with a shouting, angry human. "That's it? You fixed her bruises, patted her head and put her to bed? After everything she did, that's fucking it?" Mickey yelled, advancing on the Doctor. "ROSE IS DEAD and you're just going to -"

"She has to go back. The Timelines demand that," the Doctor replied, his voice a strange monotone still as he stared unseeingly at the monitor in front of him.

"FUCK THE TIMELINES!" Mickey roared. "So you're just going to let her go? Knowing she did this to Rose? Nothing happens? You great fucking coward -" he started.

"She will not remember," the Doctor cut him off again, moving robotically to shift a lever on the console. "None of them will. The droids, the windows, me, none of it. A dream, a nightmare, a flight of fancy brought on by too much wine at a King's spectacular party."

"But -" Mickey began but the Doctor interrupted him in the same flat, neutral tone, although his grip on the console had tightened enough that his knuckles were white.

"Jeanne Antoinette Poisson will go back and she will spend the rest of her life living in the French court of Louis XV, just as she has always desired. History will later tout her as one of the most accomplished women of her time period but in her life, she will not find the happiness she sought. She spend her life searching. She will never be content...feeling that somewhere, somehow there is something more she could have had, something more she could have been. She will continually look over her shoulder, up at the sky, around the next corner waiting for something better...something that will never come," the Doctor continued, his voice raising and growing more agitated as he spoke. "She left a loving husband to be the mistress to the king but she will never see the day when she can be Queen. She will covet the power her position brings but by the end of her life, public opinion will blame her for the Seven Years' War and for bankrupting France in her desire for power. She will be the king's mistress for five years but will be unsuccessful in bearing him an heir, suffering two miscarriages. In her continued failure, she will fall to arranging other mistresses for the King, watching as she is replaced in his life and in his bed. In the end, she will never be good enough. She will never be the best."

Mickey looked at the Time Lord in silence. He had gone to the TARDIS library to look up the woman after she'd come aboard and that did indeed sound like they way Reinette had been described in her later life. He wondered how much of that the Doctor was responsible for. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed. After all, he had watched as the alien bring down the most powerful woman in Britain with just six words. And after today...he would believe the alien capable of just about anything.

Anything except saving Rose.

But it wasn't enough. So she'd spend her life being a little unhappy._ Rose was dead._ He opened his mouth to berate the Doctor when the Time Lord spoke again suddenly, his voice low and cold once more. "At age 42, Jeanne Antoinette Poisson will fall ill. The next two years of her life will be spent in agonizing pain as her life slowly ebbs away. She will suffer and they will be able to do nothing to help her. The man who cared for her more than any other will watch, helpless, as she withers away in front of him. He will look on as her body is carried away in the rain, weeping for the love he never truly expressed," he finished, his voice hollow. Mickey watched as the hand on the console clenched suddenly, imagining other fingers entwined with it, and then fell, open and empty, to his side. "The marquise will not have good weather for her journey," he quoted, quietly braving the first time to glance toward the unmoving form on his bench. His fingers reached out tentatively toward her cheek but froze before they reached her.

"What was it?" Mickey asked, quietly. "What killed her?"

The alien turned to face him and dark, fathomless, ageless eyes peered back at him through a veil of barely disguised fury. "Her symptoms will baffle physicians of her time and, in the end, historians will categorize it as tuberculosis," he stated factually, but there was something darker in his tone.

"But it wasn't TB?" Mickey pressed, unsure he really wanted to know. Waiting in silence, Mickey's eyes darted back over to pilot's bench. He didn't care.

Rose was gone.

"No, Mickey Smith," the Doctor answered grimly. "It was not tuberculosis." He didn't seem inclined to say anything else and the silence hung over them heavily.

Then the Doctor spoke suddenly again, startling Mickey. "Mudusmycophthisis. Common universal disease affecting lifeforms with single pulmonary systems in the thirty-fourth century. Often spread by sexual contact with carriers. The disease can lay dormant in a system for many years before making itself known. Very painful but easily treated," he finished, as is reading a textbook aloud.

Mickey considered him a moment and the Doctor stared unflinchingly back, daring him to continue his questioning. "R-rose said the TARDIS scans us for diseases every time we come through the door," Mickey said, tripping over his best friend's name.

"She does," he responded, coolly considering the Time Rotor.

"And that you're notified right away to administer treatment," Mickey said carefully.

The dark eyes turned back to face Mickey once more. "I am," he said, his jaw moving ever so slightly.

"Ah," Mickey responded, unable to think of anything more to say. He turned and left the Time Lord standing alone and motionless in the center of his console room.

* * *

The Doctor, now alone in the console room, just stood, his hands clutching the edge of the TARDIS and let time flow around him. Finally, he took a deep breath and lifted Rose's body from the bench, carrying her to the MedBay. She was so broken. He couldn't take her back to Jackie like this.

Oh, Jackie.

What would he say? What would he do? What would _she_ say? Maybe he could just drop her off in the flat and then leave...seeing Jackie's grief would be devastating. He's never stayed around for the aftermath of a companion before...he's never attended a funeral or said goodbye. But, Rose...he couldn't just leave Rose.

Again.

His grief washed through him again as he laid her gently down on the table, moving automatically to repair the damages to her body as best he could with her brave, gentle heart no longer beating.

The shoulder ligaments were reattached. The broken collarbone, wrist and ribs were mended. The broken skin, the purple bruises and the burnt nerve endings from fists and restraints and machines were repaired. He cleaned away the blood and sweat and tears of two weeks in confinement and then he stoically redressed her in the outfit the TARDIS had provided: jeans, a white shirt, a pink hoodie, even knickers and new bra, redressing her as the clinical doctor and not as a man who had so desperately wanted her. All his reasons for not having been with her seemed so stupid now. Lying there on the table in her normal clothes, her eyes closed peacefully, he could almost imagine she was just sleeping.

She'd always been doing that, sleeping...and he'd begrudged her that time, cursing humanity's need for those hours of nothingness. He'd never admitted it to her, but during her obligatory eight hours, he'd often come in to check on her...to read in the low light of her room, to make sure that she was really there, really ok, really loving him. He'd thought it would end with his regeneration, when he was no longer the sad, broken, insecure soldier who had lived only for her and (for her) become this happier, prettier version of the same dark man but it hadn't. In fact, it had only grown stronger, that urge to see her at night and with it the increasing urge to climb in with her, to feel her warm body against his, to press his chest to hers and taste her salty skin.

He'd almost done it, in fact. The night after meeting Sarah Jane, he'd come into her room wracked with irrational fear of her death after having spent hours in the library brooding on her limited lifespan. He was going to do it. It would be just like his fantasies. He would slide in next to her and she'd turn, sleepy and confused, and he would kiss away her doubts, show her how very much he cared for her, how very much she deserved, how long he would let her stay. He'd shrugged off his coat and started on the buttons of his shirt when Mickey had lumbered by outside the door, muttering about sandwiches and then he'd panicked. He'd grabbed his coat and ran. And ran and ran and ran...all the way to pre-Revolutionary France and then to Bilanisky and now...

She slept but her skin was cold...colder than his even, her chest didn't rise and fall and when he bent his head to kiss her forehead, her skin didn't have the same taste it should have. When he straightened, his fingers lingering on her cheek, his eyes were dark once again.

This would not stand.

The Doctor strode to the console room and started yanking levers. The TARDIS bumped and shuddered and fought him but he was determined. Was the last Time Lord or wasn't he? If he couldn't have Rose he didn't want to live. And the stupid universe seemed to require him to live. So he was going to have to have Rose.

Mickey stumbled his way down the corridor, struggling to keep his balance in the bucking Timeship. He'd been crying in his room when the TARDIS had lurched and thrown him out his door to the ground, lighting up the hallway in a mauve color and leading him here.

"What the hell are you doin'?" he cried, grabbing a coral strut to keep from careening across the room.

"I'm going back," the Doctor replied, his voice raising frantically in a way Mickey had never heard before. "I'm going to save her."

"You, you can't!" Mickey yelled, fumbling his way to the bench. "You said we were too late. You said we can't. And the TARDIS knows, don't she? That's why she's fightin' you so hard!"

The manic eyes turned on him and Mickey found them even more frightening than the dark look he'd given pronouncing the sentence on Rathbourne and Reinette. That had been fury. This was something else entirely. "I can do whatever I like, Mickey Smith. 'Fuck the timelines', isn't that what you said earlier? That's what I'm doing. There's no one to stop me," he continued, slamming his palm on a button and spinning away. "See, for a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor. But I'm not. I'm the winner. That's who I am. The Time Lord Victorious."

"This is WRONG, Doctor," he tried. "The Time Lord Victorious is WRONG."

"That's for me to decide," the Doctor snapped, pulling viciously on another part of the console. Why was the TARDIS fighting him so much? Didn't she want their Rose back? Didn't she understand?

"Doctor, you've got to stop this. Rose wouldn't let you do this."

"Rose isn't here," the Doctor responded, his head raising to lock desperate brown eyes with Mickey. "But she will be. Soon."

Mickey watched him with large, frightened eyes. He'd always thought the Doctor was daft and a little bit mad, but this...this was his madness brought to the front, no morals, no reluctance, no consequences.

This was the Doctor without his Rose there to stop him.

Well, Rose Tyler might not be there, but Mickey Smith was.

Mickey had managed to get close to the Time Lord despite the unsteadiness of the ship (he suspected the TARDIS had helped with that). "I'm sorry, Doctor," he whispered.

"What was that?" the Doctor asked, whirling around to face Mickey, who was surprisingly close to him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated and then, faster than the Doctor could believe, his fist swung forward and the Time Lord crumpled, unconscious, to the ground.

The TARDIS immediately calmed but Mickey could still feel that they were in flight somewhere. "Where are you going?" he called out. Rose had told him the ship could hear and understand them, although he didn't understand how.

If the TARDIS responded, he couldn't understand her, but they stopped with a jolt and the monitor to his right lit up. He looked at the screen and outside saw a very familiar landscape and a very familiar figure running toward them.

Cardiff.

And Captain Jack.

* * *

Mickey pulled open the door and Jack came running in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" they both asked in unison.

Mickey crossed his arms and stared at the Captain but Jack ignored him a moment, preferring to focus on the unmoving Time Lord on the grating.

"What's wrong with him?" Jack asked, carefully sitting the pack he was wearing on his shoulders down and then kneeling beside the Time Lord and checking his pulse. The TARDIS hummed in his head, telling him the Doctor was fine and that she was keeping him unconscious. But Jack didn't like the sorrowful cant of her tune. Something was very, very wrong.

"I knocked 'im out," Mickey said, failing to keep a little bit of pride out of his voice as he said that, despite the gravity of their situation. Jack looked up at him, eyebrow raised, considering the boy closely. He looked haggard and sad and it appeared there were tear tracks on his face.

"Well, well, well, Mickey Mouse. Never thought I'd see the day. What did he do? And where's my Rosie?" he asked, nonplussed at the unconscious alien now that he knew he was ok. He didn't blame Mickey...he'd wanted to punch the Doctor a number of times himself. But the lack of Rose's appearance was worrying him. She should have come running out to his arms by now. He didn't understand why they had left him there alone on the Gamestation, didn't understand why he couldn't seem to die, didn't understand why they'd never come back for him, but he knew in his heart that he would always love them both and he was sure that Rose, at least, loved him back.

"He...he was going crazy," Mickey said. "I had to stop him. And as for...well, you better follow me," the boy finished, turning on his heel to leave the room, his shoulders slumped. Jack picked up his pack and followed, his heart heavy.

Mickey pushed open the door to the Medbay and Jack followed him silently in, knowing what he would probably find there. He'd seen a lot of death the past few centuries. He'd watched people he cared about live and die. He was prepared for death, even if he couldn't seem to grasp it himself. But when he saw his precious pink and yellow girl, the one person in the universe who had believed in him when no one else would, the one who had taught him to be a better man, lying still and cold on the table, he couldn't stop his tears.

She looked the same as when he had last seen her, last kissed her on that space station and spoken the most honest truth he'd ever said. How long had it been for her? For them? "What happened?" he croaked, exchanging his pack for her body, pulling her up from the table and into his arms, burying his tears in her hair.

"It's a long story," Mickey said, tiredly, tears shining in his own eyes.

"And we can't do anything about it?"

"No," Mickey grated out.

"He tried to go back and change it, didn't he?" Jack said, anger rising as well as sorrow. Anger at the Time Lord for letting this happen in the first place, sorrow for the girl and the grief the Time Lord must be feeling. How could he have done this, let this happen to their best girl? Jack had looked over her, protected her through her childhood years on the Powell Estate, keeping to the shadows but making sure she was happy and healthy. He'd chased away bullies, taken care of a mugger, punched an ex-boyfriend and secretly donated a turkey one Christmas when a poor Jackie and Rose had nothing but a mysterious red bicycle among them to celebrate.

"Yeah," the boy said, defeated. "I didn't know what else to do." Jack reached over and put his arm around Mickey's shoulder.

"Well, come with me. Let's get him out of the TARDIS where he can't do any more damage for a while. I've got a place we can keep him until he wakes up. The old girl says he won't wake up for a bit," Jack said, resigned.

"What am I going to do?" Mickey asked quietly, one arm clutching Jack and the other reaching out toward Rose.

"Move forward," Jack said, softly. "That's all we can do. That's all we can ever do."

"How?" he asked, tears shining once again.

"I don't know," Jack answered, letting his own tears fall. "I don't know."

Together the two of them carried the unconscious Time Lord from the console room into Jack's Torchwood lair under the square in Cardiff and if any pedestrians thought it was odd to see two men carrying another out of a police box and underground, none of them said a word.

* * *

The TARDIS breathed a sigh of relief as they left, Her precious-but-wrong Jack, Her Thief and the Boy-who-was-more. Her Time Lord had done so many things wrong with Her Rose and the Wolf had made her share of mistakes along the way as well. She had never pretended to try and really understand the animates who roamed her halls before, not really anyway. Even her Thief, with her for so long and bonded to her so deeply was often as much a mystery in his motivations and actions as the rest of the figures he brought aboard. Their hopes, their dreams, their emotions, their needs, all swirled around Her inner workings in a haze of oddity to Her. But She was old, so very old, much older than even Her Thief himself and She had seen so very much, over the years She'd thought She'd come to understand them in their own silly ways. And then Her Rose had come along and ripped open the console and so very suddenly, she felt so much more.

She'd seen the world full of hope and despair, light and dark, love and loss. She'd danced through order and chaos, felt the pull of Time and the wonder of Space. Her Wolf had been so very alive and Her Thief needed her so very much. This would not stand. She would not allow it.

She was not ready to give up and despair (and what a curious emotion that was, despair. How did they manage to feel all those things so deep inside and not explode?, She wondered). She was not ready to let go or move forward. So, with Her infinite knowledge and Her expansive grasp, She searched the Timelines, combing through them until She found the one She wanted, the one whose incandescent aurelian line of Her Rose had not ended, but was really just beginning. She pulled it toward Her, embracing it tightly and weaving its essence with Her own. Her Wolf would never leave them now. And bless Her precious-but-wrong Jack. He'd brought them exactly what they needed, her Wolf and She.

And so, deep in the halls of the miraculous blue box, a girl and a jar began to glow.


	13. Chapter 13

**All right, so here it is! I didn't want to leave it there, but I don't have the next scene written ****quite yet and you've all been waiting patiently for this next part, so I thought I'd go ahead and get it up there. Probably one or two more chapters for this one...there's still a lot of confessing and apologizing and forgiving to be done but I hope you like what's happened so far. Thanks for all the love and support! **

* * *

She has been watching the Timestream for centuries, always keeping a temporal eye on the shining blue Timeline of Her Thief even before She met him. She knew/has known/would know that his life, their life, if they chose it together would never be easy. He has always been a special one, his words and actions echoing through the eons beyond even what She understands. Many pieces of his future have been laid out, set in the steel of the universe itself but, as he so often tells his strays, Time is never completely set. At least most of it. And so, she has watched and crafted, determining for him, for both of them, the best future. The happiest future. There are many where he is sad (he is so very often sad), where he is alone (his strays are always gone in the end), and somewhere, somewhen, he eventually dies alone and the universe is lost without its protector.

But She has declared that it will not be so. She has searched and searched and She been pulling them toward this future She has chosen for so long now. She has always seen Her Wolf. She has seen what the girl has meant/means/will mean. The calm to his storm, the light to his darkness, the valor to his diffidence. By bringing along That Woman, he has already successfully broken off a future where they lose Her Wolf to a parallel and by forcing Her hand to Biliniski, it is really he has brought them here, not She. There was so much energy here, both in the Rift and in the odd gift given to them by the one they abandoned. What were few quirks of biology to Her? She and her Wolf had a promise to keep, after all. The TARDIS gave one last almighty pull to the Timestream and then, suddenly...

Rose Tyler awoke.

And promptly panicked.

Rose shot up in the bed, panting, looking around frantically. Where was she? WHEN was she? Had she died? She thought perhaps she'd died. The last thing she remembered...well she couldn't. Remember. Exactly. There had been all the nothing. And the darkness. And then the fire. And now...well, there were too many other things bombarding her at the moment to focus on something silly like remembering.

Everything seemed too bright, too sharp and too real. Strong and varied smells assaulted and confused her. She could practically taste the air. The texture of the sheets under her fingers felt complex and rubbed the pads of her fingers oddly. The lights of the room bore down on her harshly, the sound of the TARDIS singing joyfully rang in her ears overwhelmingly and her heart was beating so, so fast. Too fast.

_Hearts. And 240 beats per minut_e, something in her brain joyfully chirped up.

Which is when she realized she wasn't breathing. And hadn't been for a while.

_2.4314 minutes_, flitted across her consciousness.

She was dead. She had to be dead.

Throwing off the covers, Rose leapt from the MedBay bed. And then promptly slipped and went arse-over-teakettle to the floor, managing to bang her head along the way and shift herself back into unconsciousness but not before something that sounded an awful lot like, _Low coefficient of friction between stockinged feet and slippery floors_, flashed by, followed very quickly by '_What the hell is a coefficient_'?

If the TARDIS hadn't been so overjoyed that Her plan had worked and that Her Wolf was back, She would have rolled Her eyes. She carefully shifted Her rooms around the now-unconscious girl, placing Her in the Zero Room with a thermos of tea to finish her healing coma and wake up soon.

Silly creatures.

They always are useless right after a regeneration.

With Her Wolf taken care of, the TARDIS returned Her focus to Her Thief, who had been equally unconscious in Her precious-but-wrong Jack's lair, who was going to be very unpleasant when he arrived at her doors.

Right about...now.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Torchwood_

The Doctor woke up like a shot, sitting up straight and nearly falling off the narrow bed on which he was perched rather haphazardly. Where the hell was he?

He took stock of himself first. Everything seemed to be in good working order although his jaw was a bit stiff. But he was in just his shirtsleeves and trousers, missing his long brown jacket, his suit coat, his screwdriver and his trouser pockets were empty. Well, that was not good.

He looked around the room. It appeared to be a rather standard, if a bit small, bedroom. Like the ones you kept in the back of your house barely used and untouched until someone unexpected stopped in. A guest room then. Except the door to this room was high grade titanium, locked from the outside and he was fairly certain that "mirror" above the dresser was actually observation glass.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor tried to remember what had happened immediately preceding this. He'd been on his ship, had been taking them...oh, Rassilon. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground beside the bed.

Rose.

He'd been going to go back to save Rose.

And then Mickey Smith,_ Mickey bloody Smith_, had punched him and knocked him unconscious and his traitorous TARDIS had helped. His jaw had quickly healed but the memory of that still smarted. He focused his emotions on his anger at Rickey instead of thinking about the huge, overwhelming tidal wave of grief that was coming if he spared even a single thought about...anything else. The Doctor pulled himself to his feet to pace the small room.

So, he'd been unconscious on the TARDIS. But they'd been in flight. And he certainly wasn't on the TARDIS now. He could feel Her, safe and not far away, but She seemed to be ignoring him at the moment. He pushed away the pain of Her anger and rejection as well. So, they'd landed somewhere, somehow, and Mickey Smith had either let someone into his ship to kidnap him or dragged him out of it and let him get taken then. He did a quick mental search for Mickey and found him several rooms away, heart rate and body temperature normal. And then, out of sheer habit, he began another search for the pinkish-golden, wander-prone mind he was always having to track down in situations like this and then stopped himself abruptly with another mental howl of grief that was immediately shut down.

Sitting back down cross-legged on the floor by the door, to keep his knees from giving way again if he thought of _her_, he reached out with his mind once more, closing his eyes. If whoever had him captive thought they'd taken all his weapons away by emptying his pockets, they had another thing coming. Nothing was going to keep him cooped up in here. He needed to get back to his TARDIS and he needed to get back his Rose.

The air here (wherever 'here' was) buzzed with power and Time, which he filed away to help determine his location. The atmosphere and chemical compounds in the air felt like Earth, but it could be simulated for his benefit, he supposed. His mental search found him four more humans, an oddly misplaced pterosaurs, high residues of varied alien technologies and another heavily shielded figure that made his teeth itch and his skin crawl. He recoiled from that mind sharply, pulling back with a frown. What, on Gallifrey, was that thing? It felt wrong, so very, very wrong. Taking in a deep breath, he widened his awareness to look for more answers when something in the smell of this room prickled his mind. That smell, he knew that smell.

It had once permeated his TARDIS, clinging to the halls and furniture, meaning friendship and trust and he used to, almost obsessively, make sure it hadn't clung to_ his_ favourite pink and yellow girl _too much_, lest he have to remind its owner that it didn't belong there.

Jack. That smell, that itch, the power here. It all meant Cardiff. Torchwood. And Jack.

"_Jack Harkness_!" he bellowed, shooting to his feet and turning to face the 'mirror'. "Let me out of here!"

Jack had been watching him the entire time through the window/mirror, curious to see what the Time Lord would do. It hurt so much to see the Doctor there, even with another face, and know that the two people he trusted most in the entire universe had left him behind. On purpose.

Well, at least one of them had left him on purpose. He figured that Rose didn't know. But still, she hadn't made the Doctor come back for him. The Time Lord would have done it if she'd asked. Or at least the old Doctor would have. He barely knew this new one. Maybe not.

But if the Time Lord had been willing to rip apart the universe to stop her death, he figured the other man's love still held. He'd seen the way the Doctor had fallen to the floor earlier, seen the grief that had passed over his face. He'd only seen the Doctor that hurt once before and it was when they thought Rose had been dead. Now she was. He was hurting. Desperately. And Jack wanted to help. But he couldn't risk the universe for it.

Sometimes Time was a real bitch.

He had also felt the telepathic touch the Doctor had used to feel out how many "enemies" he had holding him here (good trick, that. Jack wished his own telepathy was strong enough for that technique) and seen the Time Lord recoil from his signature, hurting him again. He knew he was different, wrong somehow...but seeing that rejection from the Doctor had hurt. A lot.

Sighing heavily, he looked over at the grim and exhausted Mickey Smith, who leaning back in his chair beside the table, watching the alien as well, and then Jack leaned forward to the mic into the room.

"Hello, Doc," he said, softly.

"Jack. I'm warning you. I don't know why you've got me prisoner in here but you will let me out. Immediately," the Doctor growled, prowling closer to the mirror and Jack could see the tinge of madness that Mickey had warned him about underneath the Time Lord's calm exterior.

"You're not a prisoner, Doctor," Jack replied, evenly. He didn't need to provoke the man.

The Doctor, on the other side of the glass, snorted. "Oh really? Then why have I been locked in this room and why have all my posession been confiscated?"

"Not all your possessions, Doc. Mickey wouldn't let me take your trousers," Jack retorted, trying for a bit of their old camaraderie.

It didn't work. The icy stare given back to him had none of the hidden mirth the old blue eyes had always shown in their glares at him, more for show to Rose than anything else. He had long believed it was Rose who had put that mirth in those timeless eyes in the first place. Apparently, he'd been right.

"You know why you're locked in there," Jack replied to the dark silence he was receiving. The Doctor's face didn't change a bit, just stared fiercely back at him through the one-way glass. "I saw her, Doc," he continued, his voice breaking and finally a flicker of emotion passed through the inky blackness of the Doctor's eyes. "You can't go back," he finished.

"I can do whatever I want, Jack Harkness," he snapped, prowling even closer to the mirror and slamming his fist down on the dresser. The wood cracked underneath his knuckles.

"That's not true and you know it," Jack growled back, standing up and letting his chair clatter to the ground. "What good is having her back if the universe gets ripped apart at the seams? Because the Reapers will take you both, too. You know that."

The Doctor's anger fell away then and tears welled up in its place. "She's gone, Jack," he whispered, leaning his forehead against the mirror.

"I know, Doc. I know," Jack replied, moving up to the mirror as well, hoping the Doctor could feel him there.

Then, the door to Jack's room opened hesitantly and a calm, well-manicured man stepped into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but there seems to be a problem with, ah, the box," Ianto said, carefully, watching his boss' tear-streamed face closely.

"What?" came the Doctor's sharp reply from the sound system, his head snapping up and his eyes focused unseeingly on the mirror, trying to pinpoint the new voice.

Ianto coughed lightly. "The box, sir. It's glowing."

Jack, seeing no choice and believing that he had reached the Doctor, let the Time Lord out of Torchwood's 'guest room' immediately and the four of them took off for the Control Room. The Doctor's eyes widened as he saw the image of the TARDIS on Ianto's monitor screen, glowing bright golden. He could feel the energy flowing around them, out of the rift and out of the TARDIS itself. In fact, the golden, burning tang of it filled the air and his nostrils and seemed...genuinely familiar.

Wordlessly, Jack handed him the sonic and, tool in hand, the Doctor leapt for the lift, followed closely by Jack, Mickey and an armed, wary-looking (and somewhat familiar) woman, leaving Ianto and the other stunned looking humans to man Torchwood. "What's going on, Doctor?" Mickey asked as they ran from the concealed hub to the TARDIS doors.

"I don't know," the Doctor replied, stretching a hand out for the wooden door as the glow and the fire retreated.

Inserting his key in the door, the four of them ran in and the Doctor went straight to the console, running his hands over the controls. "What's wrong, girl?" he muttered out loud and Gwen shot Jack an incredulous look. "What was that? What's happening?"

A strange looked crossed the Time Lord's face then and the humans watched as some floor lights lit up, leading them back into the halls of the Timeship. With the Doctor in the lead, the four of them skidded their way into the MedBay.

Which was now empty.

"Rose?" the Doctor mumbled, his voice breaking in a heart-wrenching manner. Mickey and Jack gaped at the table which had once held the small human and then the Doctor turned again, roaring at the ceiling. "What have you done with her? Give her back to me!"

No, no, no. What if that's what the fire had been? A proper Gallifreyan send-off? His ship saying goodbye? He wasn't ready. She couldn't be gone. He couldn't lose her without saying goodbye, at the very, very least.

The lights in the room flickered and then shifted, highlighting the pack sitting on the table where Rose had once been. "My pack!" Jack cried, shifting forward toward it, but the Time Lord got there first.

"Jack, what the -" the Doctor began, pulling out a transparent container that looked, to Mickey and Gwen, to contain a severed hand. "But, that, that, that's my hand!"

"It's my Doctor detector," Jack replied, snagging the container away from the Doctor as if it were something precious and not, well, gross.

"What do you mean that's your hand?" Gwen asked, speaking for the first time mostly because she seemed to be the only one truly confused by this. "You have both your hands. I can see them."

"Long story. I lost my hand on Christmas Day. In a swordfight," he added, taking it back from Jack and turning the container around in his hands, examining it and then taking out his sonic to scan it.

"And you grew another hand?" Gwen asked, frowning.

"Yeah, he did," Mickey replied. "It was weird."

"It's not right, though," the Doctor muttered, moving away from them and speaking more to himself than anyone else. "This should be bursting with regeneration energy. Even separated from me, it was cut off during the peak point of my regeneration, so it should have retained its properties. It should still be saturated. Very dangerous, by the way, Jack," he said, looking up at the other man suddenly. "That's why Time Lords cremate their remains. I should have taken it, should have found it. I guess I was a bit...distracted, at Christmas, though," he finished, trailing off softly, thinking of Prime Ministers, and dinners and nervous questions in the not-quite-snow, and then shifted moods quickly, focusing back on Jack once again. "If something else had gotten a hold of this hand and it was still functioning properly...it could have been catastrophic."

"Guess it's good it was me who found it then, huh?" Jack said.

"Yeah. Guess so," he replied, and for a moment, Jack was sure the warmth that radiated from the Time Lord's eyes took a slight blue tinge for a moment.

Back to business, the Doctor, spun on his heel to consider the jar once again. "But the question is...if the regeneration energy isn't in this hand still...where did it go? And where is Rose?" he muttered and then his eyes grew large, large than saucers and Jack could practically FEEL the hope radiating out from him.

"No," he breathed. "It's not possible. It can't be possible. Impossible," he muttered, taking in a deep breath.

"You keep using that word, Doctor. I do not think it means what you think it means," came a light voice from the hall...a voice none of them had ever thought they would hear again. The Doctor's head whipped up and there, standing haloed in the golden light of the TARDIS, was a grinning, pink and yellow and alive, so, so ALIVE, Rose Tyler.


End file.
